Mirrored
by Lynse
Summary: As a general rule, diving into unknown swirly vortexes in the Ghost Zone is a bad idea, but this was a time when Danny had no other real choice. Meanwhile, Jake thought he was through dealing with ghosts, but Rotwood, well, he's just getting started.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: For _American Dragon: Jake Long_, this story follows both _Magic Enemy #1 _and _A Ghost Story_, whichever came last. (I've seen multiple listing orders.) For _Danny Phantom_, this is set sometime before _Phantom Planet_ but otherwise late in the final season.

_Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, and I make no money from this work of fiction!_

* * *

It was supposed to be a quick trip to the Ghost Zone. Three hours, tops, including the time it would take him to fight off Skulker if he encountered him. Or Technus. Or most of the other ghosts that came by Amity Park on a semi-regular basis.

It was not, Danny remembered, supposed to be a trip that was taking upwards of five hours.

And he was definitely not supposed to be spending the last three of those hours flying frantically, trying to lose a ghost that was keeping surprisingly close to his tail.

He did, of course, know that this was why Jazz and Sam and even Tucker had told him not venture into the Ghost Zone without at least warning one of them, letting them know where he was, if he refused to take back-up. And this time hadn't exactly been a refusal to take back-up. Tucker was at a family reunion. Sam had volunteered to do something with her grandma to get out of dress shopping with her mother. Jazz was being the good Fenton child and enduring the Sunday afternoon lecture their parents were hosting in the town hall, keeping an eye on them and screening the crowd for subjects to interview for her ongoing thesis on ghost envy.

And him? He had claimed homework and promptly ignored it in favour of going to visit Frostbite in the Far Frozen. He'd wanted to talk to him about Dani and the possibility of her taking more than a crash-course on cryokinesis when her ice powers finally developed. Providing one of them managed to track her down once they did; as far as he knew, she was still on the move. He didn't even know whether she was in the human world or not.

Of course, things hadn't gone exactly as planned. Sure, he'd made it to the Far Frozen easily enough, and Frostbite had repeatedly assured him that he and his people would be more than delighted to assist the Great One by guiding Dani as she dealt with her developing powers. He'd managed to dodge the rest of their compliments and convince them they didn't need to try to put together a feast for him just because he was visiting and had started to head home.

That was when Murphy's Law decided to make itself known in his life—again—because he had been thinking, oh so foolishly, that he wouldn't need back-up. After all, he'd been in and out of the Ghost Zone hundreds of times. He could take care of himself.

Usually.

Now that he was being chased by something that looked like a cross between an ectopus (with extra tentacles) and caterpillar with more teeth than a shark (and obviously a lot more speed than a caterpillar, given how the thing was managing to keep up with him), he was wondering if whatever good luck he had been enjoying was going to run out or if he had just enough left to make it out of this alive.

He could fly fast, and he was stronger and more in control of his powers than he had ever been before. It sort of came with practice and experience, so that was a given. But after three hours at top speed, speeding through the bright green of the Ghost Zone, in an expanse that saw ten times more rocks than floating purple doors that signalled ghost lairs or doorways to who knew where, well….

Desperate times, as they say.

And then there was the fact that he was ready to take about any out he saw, acting first and asking questions later, no matter how many times Jazz told him to do the opposite. She wasn't in his situation. She didn't know what this felt like. He was still surprised he could think straight.

Still, as a general rule, diving into unknown swirly vortexes in the Ghost Zone was a bad idea, especially when they hadn't been there three seconds earlier. Danny knew this. He also knew that if he slowed down as much as he would need to in order to avoid it in time, the thing that was chasing him, whatever it was, would be close enough to snag him with one of its tentacle things. If it caught him, he would definitely be dead. Well, destroyed. Probably eaten or something equally disgusting.

So, since Danny didn't want to be lunch, he kept going. Full speed ahead. Whatever lay ahead of him had to be better than whatever was chasing him, right? This was the lesser of the two evils.

At least, that's what he kept telling himself as he dove into the portal, unsure of where he was going and when he was going to end up.

* * *

"I thought ghosts didn't really count as magic creatures," Jake said. "I mean, they're dead, right? Just impressions or whatever?"

"There's more than one type of ghost, kid," came the reply. Fu was about as ordinary a dog as Jake was a kid, but since Lao Shi's electronics shop was empty, Fu didn't have to pretend to be an ordinary dog.

Besides, they were in the back.

"I mean," Fu continued, flipping through the pages of the book in front of him with one paw, "it's more than just your standard spirits out there. You've got poltergeists, phantoms, bhoots, banshees, wraiths—"

"But can't they take care of themselves?" Jake asked. "I mean, they're ghosts. They hardly ever show, and it's not like anything can kill them or even hurt them."

Fu looked over at Jake. "Kid, you're the American Dragon. Even if you don't think they need it, it's your job to protect them."

"Or stop them from getting out," Jake muttered, eyeing the Mugwomp Cup that sat innocently on the corner of the desk. It still held the ghosts of Shackles Jack and his gang. Jake didn't really want to let them out—they were in there for a good reason, after all—but there were safer places that they could be kept. According to Gramps, at any rate. He figured they would've been fine if they'd left the cup buried under tons of stone rubble, but no, he had to go dig it out again in case the cup had gotten damaged….

Still, Fu was convinced he'd read about a dimension where most of the ghosts resided, but he couldn't seem to remember where it was or how to find it.

Jake groaned and picked up the book nearest to him again. "You're sure this place exists, Fu?"

"I'm sure," Fu replied. He absently pointed one paw in the direction of an empty bowl. "Mind getting me some more grub?"

"What, you want more caramel corn?"

"Anything'll do, gagagoo…."

Jake sighed but grabbed the bowl. It got him out of doing research, at any rate. Gramps was out doing…something, and Trixie and Spud were finishing up the group project the three of them had for Rotwood's class, and Haley, as far as he knew, was at dragon training, too, with her dragon master, Sun Park.

Mind you, he didn't really count research as dragon training. Of course, he'd done lots of things in dragon training that he hadn't really counted as dragon training but had turned out to be useful anyway, so he'd stopped questioning his grandfather's judgement. He hadn't stopped complaining, per se, but he'd toned down the questioning. Marginally.

He found a bag of chips and emptied them into the bowl before setting it down on the table. Fu was a great magical guardian, really, but he could be doing practically anything else right now. Helping Spud and Trixie like he should, doing the project without actually giving Rotwood too much information about the magical world, or even goofing off at the skate park and acting like a kid for once.

He'd been the protector of the magical world, the American Dragon, for over a year. It wasn't getting any easier. He was getting better, but his secret was getting harder to guard. And since his dad had installed that stupid security system so he couldn't sneak out at night, well, he'd been getting in even _more_ trouble whenever a dragon emergency came up and he had to act. At least his mom was on his side, but then again, she knew the whole story. And Haley didn't _always_ tell on him if he did try sneaking out for a different reason than his responsibilities. She just usually did.

"Why can't we just stick the cup in a box and bury it somewhere?" Jake asked again.

"I told you. The old man figures it's too dangerous, and as far as I can tell, he's right. We need to return these spirits to that other dimension, but I can't find the spell that'll open up a doorway for us."

"Man, this is taking forever," Jake moaned.

"Might as well start reading, kid. It won't go any faster if it's just me."

This was going to be a _loooong_ day.

* * *

"I did it! I have captured a magical creature!"

Wha—?

Danny blinked and glanced around. As far as he could tell, he was back in the Real World. Well, that much was obvious, but as far as he could tell, he wasn't stuck in the middle ages or anything. The portal he'd come through had closed, which was probably just as well, given what had been chasing him and the fact that he'd forgotten his Fenton Thermos, since he'd never really seen much use for it in the Ghost Zone. But as for where he was?

That was…less clear.

Besides the cage, anyway.

His captor, the only other person in the room—garage?—was now leaning closer to him, peering at him intently. "Stable form," he sniffed, and as he continued, Danny realized his accent was German. "Young. Teenager, perhaps fourteen or fifteen. Odd fashion. Doesn't seem terribly bright—"

"Hey! I resent that. I've been here, what, one minute? Two? Didn't anyone ever tell you not to judge a book by its cover?"

"English speaker," the man continued, drawing back to write some of his findings down on a clipboard. "Probably American. Responsive and coherent, seems to hold a rudimentary understanding of its surroundings—"

"_Rudimentary_?"

"Very defined form, appears detailed when inspected closely…." The man trailed off, studying Danny's face as he made his judgement.

Danny scowled at the monocle-wearing man. "How'd you create a portal?" he demanded. Sure, he could just phase out of the cage and escape—it wasn't ghost-proof, as far as he could tell—but if he pretended to be caught, the guy might give him some answers.

Like how he'd created a portal to the Ghost Zone. That was something very few ghosts could do and very few machines could do, and there was nothing in the area that Danny recognized as capable of tearing a hole in reality, much less neatly closing it once he was through. At least he hadn't been specifically targeted. The guy was still rambling on about him being a high quality specimen rather than actually answering his question, but he didn't appear to know who he was, which was good.

At least the guy spoke English. That was a tremendous plus, seeing as portals between the Ghost Zone and the Real World could open up anywhere. He was kind of hard to pay attention to, though. Danny was almost willing to bet he was a teacher, and probably not for a popular subject. At least, not a subject that was popular so long as he was teaching it. Could be a science teacher, maybe, but Danny was still getting a 'garage' vibe from this room, despite the lack of a vehicle. It wasn't anything like his parents' lab in the basement, at any rate. No beakers or Bunsen burners or Erlenmeyer flasks or….

Wait.

Big book. Thick, hardcover, and probably a bit dusty. And written by a guy he wished he'd never had the displeasure of meeting: Frederich Isak Showenhower. Freakshow.

Okay, not a lab. More like secret evil lair or something.

Granted, this guy seemed kinda…harmless. A bit annoying, maybe, because he kept ignoring him, but otherwise harmless.

Taking a chance, Danny reached out and touched the bars of the cage. He didn't receive a shock, so he phased through.

"—not too much of a—what? What's this? No! Stop! Get back in there!"

"Why would I get back in there?" Danny asked. "I don't like being in a cage."

"But…but…." The man, whoever he was, couldn't seem to believe what had happened. "You are a ghost! A spirit! The cage is iron, ringed with salt. You should not be able to get out!"

Danny shrugged. "So sue me. Look, that portal thing you made—are you going to tell me how you did it?"

The man's eyes narrowed. "Will you get back in the cage if I do?"

Danny snorted. "Never mind. I'll just make sure you don't do it again." An ectoblast over the head of the guy later and his precious book erupted into green flames. Okay, so it wasn't _flames_, exactly, but it glowed green from the ghost ray before the entire thing turned to ash.

The man whimpered.

"Hey, I'm being nice," Danny said. "If you would've gotten any other ghost, you'd probably be running out screaming by now. Me, I'll just let you off with a warning. Don't do it again." He waved a hand and started floating upwards. Once he figured out where he was, he could figure out how to get home.

"No! Wait!" the man cried. "You can't leave. I even brought you an offering!"

An offering? That…. Okay, fine, he was curious. What kind of offerings did people leave for ghosts, anyway? Because if it was anything remotely resembling a bloody sacrifice, he was _so_ out of there. But, since the guy didn't seem harmful—or actually like someone who knew the first thing about ghosts, or at least his kind of ghost, or at least hunting ghosts—Danny drifted back down to the guy's eye level.

"I don't really care what it is, you know," Danny said, even though he was pretty sure the guy wasn't paying that much attention to anything he was saying. "I'm still going to be leaving."

The man fumbled with the lid on a jar. "I have it right here," he said. "It was very hard to get. You should be most pleased."

"I'd be more pleased if you hadn't tried to lock me in a cage," Danny pointed out as the man finally got the lid off the jar. The hairs prickled on the back of Danny's neck, and the guard he'd lowered immediately rose again. "What is that?"

The man was eagerly dumping the contents of the jar into his hand. But Danny already knew what it was and already knew that it was too late to run. Dried, red flower petals fell from the man's fingers as he held his hand in Danny's direction, a hopeful look on his face. He really seemed to think this would make him want to stay, that it was a good thing, that ghosts _liked_ those flowers and might even be bribed by their presence.

That didn't make the pain of the blood blossoms any less, which seemed no less potent dried than fresh, and Danny collapsed to the floor, writhing and shrieking in pain.


	2. Chapter 2

Professor Hans Rotwood honestly hadn't known the effect the blood blossom petals would have on the ghost.

If he had, he would have been sure to have kept them _in_ the cage and ensure that the ghost was unable to escape. Though the fact that it had gotten through iron _and_ salt meant that he needed to make more than a few changes to the assumptions from which he'd been working.

His line of work was not an easy one. For all the multitude of ghost stories out there, there was no _definitive_ proof of their existence. Ghosts weren't painted with the same brush as the rest of the magical creatures—whom most of the western world did scoff without blinking an eye—but that didn't make it any easier to track them down and not be labelled a crackpot in the process. When he'd come across this book by Mr. Showenhower, he'd been sceptical. Some of the pages had been dedicated to obviously foolish things of fancy, detailing dubious stories about the existence of reality gauntlets as if they were as credible as stories about Atlantis or the medicinal uses of unicorn horn. But the rest of the pages had held just enough information with a ring of truth to it that he'd bought the book.

The fact that the margins had been scribbled in had annoyed him until he'd realized their potential. It was one such scribble that he had to thank for creating a portal into the world of the ghosts, the other plane that so rarely shifted, and had allowed him to snag a prime specimen for study and show.

Of course, said specimen was still twisting and crying out as if someone was trying to perform an exorcism, even though he had now put the petals back in the jar.

A slight shift of the arm, and Rotwood spotted a petal he'd missed. He bent down to pick it up, startled when the ghost hit him. He'd been under the impression that ghosts were intangible to ordinary humans. Magical creatures could interact with them, of course, and they could interact with inanimate objects if they so chose, but ordinary humans such as himself? It was not supposed to be possible.

Perhaps the notions of those ghost hunters he'd heard about a few years back weren't as ridiculous as he'd assumed.

The ghost's thrashing was significantly lessened now that the petals were contained in the jar, but Rotwood had dealt with enough slippery magical creatures to know that it would not be in his best interest to cap the jar just yet. Even two feet away, the ghost was still affected, and blood blossoms, apparently, were all that Rotwood had to contain the specimen.

It would prove difficult to study, however. All his careful preparations did not seem to have given him any edge. He'd been preparing for a generic type of spirit. What he'd gotten was a phantom of some sort, he suspected. He'd read documents about odder-looking ghosts than this one. Eyes weren't a natural green. Hair was too bright, its colour conspicuously absent. Still glowed. But the skin was a normal colour, and it looked human enough. Right number of limbs and eyes and mouths and such, all in the proper places.

But the ghost was tangible to normal humans or perhaps could choose its state of tangibility. It could control spectral beams of energy, concentrating them and using them as a weapon. It was unaffected by iron and salt, and the blood blossoms, which he'd once read were an attractant to ghosts, something desirable and sought after, clearly had an ill effect. A mistranslation, he suspected, by a scholar less astute than he.

He would have to do some quick research now if he intended to maintain hold of this particular magical creature long enough to alert the media and get the recognition that was his due. He'd heard of a few paranormal scientists in America—labelled as crackpots, of course—who had claimed to have designed weapons to use against and to contain ghosts. Since he wasn't sure how long the blood blossom petals would incapacitate the ghost, it was in his best interest to see if these people had invented anything useful. He knew he had their names on file.

It could be dreadfully hard to pick out who had been imagining a ghost encounter and who had not, but the most he'd lose on this venture would be the cost of acquiring the containment device, and he'd thrown money away after less promising devices and artefacts.

Rotwood spared the specimen a quick glance, decided he would have time to find the number of these potential paranormal experts, and left.

* * *

"We're home, sweetie!" Maddie called.

No response.

"Just wait 'til you hear how it went, Danny-boy!" Jack bellowed, looking expectantly towards the stairs.

Danny did not appear.

Jazz may not have seen a ghost fight on the way home, but it wasn't too much of a stretch to guess that that was what Danny was probably doing. Not even the Box Ghost had been foolish enough to turn up at her parents' talk, so something had to be keeping them busy, and that usually meant Danny had been out as Phantom and had managed to head them off. Repeatedly.

"Uh, he said something about going to Sam's after," Jazz said, knowing perfectly well Danny had said no such thing. "You know, once Sam's done her volunteer work. They were going to watch a movie or something until they could meet up with Tucker. Maybe he went early."

Maddie sighed. "He could at least leave us a note," she said. "I don't recall giving him permission to be out, especially after the mark he got on his last test."

Jazz shrugged apologetically. "You know Danny, Mom. Sometimes he just needs a break. He was working all afternoon." Even if homework hadn't been his focus.

For a moment, Maddie glanced at her daughter as if suspicious about the words; after all, Jazz was usually trying to get on Danny's case about homework, saying he ought to do it when he's at home rather than immediately going from school (or, all too often, detention) to the Nasty Burger or out to a friend's house. But Maddie shook her head and seemed to dismiss the issue, deciding it wasn't worth pursuing.

Jazz was relieved, though she wasn't sure how much trouble Danny would be in when their parents realized his homework hadn't been done. Mr. Lancer had called them before, and Danny was due for about another call about a missed assignment or the lack of effort put into it, not to mention the failing test scores and apparent skipping. She just wished she could do more to help him. Covering for him was always a temporary thing, and she always risked getting Danny in more danger. Especially at times like these, when she really _didn't_ know where he was.

"I've got an essay to write," Jazz said. "I'll be in my room, but I might head out to the library later."

"Of course, honey," Maddie said absently. "Have fun."

Jazz did indeed have an essay to write, but that was not what she turned her attention to once she got to her room. She pulled out her Fenton Phone, put it on, activated it, and said, "Danny? Do you copy?"

She was met with the indescribable sound of dead air.

"Must not be wearing it," Jazz decided, trying to tell herself that she wasn't worried yet. Danny would have had no reason to put it on, after all, when he knew he wouldn't be calling her, Sam, or Tucker.

She could still try calling Sam and Tucker, though, on the off chance that they had heard from Danny or—at least in Sam's case—had noticed ghost activity. But neither teen, when she finally got in touch with them, knew of either. It had been, as Sam had remarked, a surprisingly quiet day.

That left her with one option: calling Danny himself. If he wasn't in trouble, he should answer. The only reason he wouldn't, barring trouble, would be if he was 'busy' (and if that didn't fall under _incredibly_ busy, Jazz would definitely have words with him) or out of range. But the phone rang through to voicemail.

Jazz left a quick message before snapping her phone shut to check Danny's room for clues. She didn't find anything. "Why don't you ever listen to me, Danny?" Jazz muttered. "I can't help you if I can't find you."

Danny would say she was overreacting. Tell her she was just being overprotective and overbearing. That he was fine, like he always was. That she didn't need to worry.

But her little brother had a dangerous affinity to trouble.

"I'll give you half an hour," Jazz said, even though she knew very well that Danny couldn't hear her, wherever he was. "If you're not home in half an hour, I'm going to start looking for you."

And when half an hour came and went without Danny's reappearance, Jazz went out on the pretence of looking things up at the library.

* * *

"Yo, Jakey!" Trixie called out as she and Spud walked into Jake's grandpa's shop. "You in here?"

"In the back!" Jake called out. He sounded relived. Trixie didn't particularly blame him. Doing schoolwork was bad enough. Having to do research and stuff when not in school when it wasn't even for school? Definitely the only downside to being, thanks to genetics, a cool magical creature.

Well, that and the danger, but Jake handled it pretty well, and sometimes they could help him.

"Any luck, dude?" Spud asked when they found themselves facing the stacks of books that surrounded Jake and Fu Dog.

"Not so far," Jake admitted. "How goes Rotwood's project?"

"We're taking a break," Trixie said, "but we brought it with us in case you want to look at anything."

"Yeah," Spud added. "Do you think that we should say the best brownie to find is one with nuts?"

"What?" Jake stared at Spud, obviously as confused as Trixie felt.

But because she'd been working with him all afternoon, she figured out what Spud was talking about, and she punched his arm for good measure. "Yo, Spud, don't you ever pay attention? What were you thinking about all afternoon?" And ignoring what was coming out of Spud's mouth, because it sure wouldn't be worth listening to, Trixie continued, "We ain't talking about food here. These brownies are like leprechauns."

"Don't let them hear you say that," Fu muttered, not looking up from whatever book he was reading.

"Who, the brownies or the leprechauns?"

"Probably both," Jake answered, getting to his feet. "You good for a while, Fu?"

"Sure, kid. The old man should be back soon."

"You think he mighta found something?"

"Well, we sure as heck ain't having any luck," Fu said, looking up. "And it's been a while since I've had to brush up on my ancient Sumerian. But did I tell you about this one gal I met last time I was through there? She was a looker, but terrible at dancing. Two left feet. Literally. But once I got her off the dance floor…."

"Whatcha actually looking for, anyway?" Trixie asked, ignoring Fu Dog and looking over at Jake.

Jack jerked his thumb over his shoulder, and Trixie noticed the Mugwomp camp trophy that, last she'd heard, had been buried under a pile of rubble. "Gotta get rid of these guys. Fu says there's a spell or something to create a portal into this ghost dimension, so we've been stuck looking for it."

"And unfortunately for you, some of these old geezers wrote in English?" Trixie guessed. From the expression on Jake's face, she knew she was right.

"What's wrong with leaving them where they are?" Spud asked, picking up the Mugwomp Cup and peering at it. "They were sucked into a swirling vortex, dude. Swirling vortexes are never good."

"Oh, yeah?" Trixie challenged, knowing Spud was used to her scoffing at him. "And what's your authority on that, Spud? Which comic books?"

"It's not just comic books. It's a law of the universe," Spud argued, spreading his hands wide. "Whenever someone or something gets sucked into a swirling vortex, it's bad for them. It doesn't matter if they're the good guy or the bad guy."

"You know," Jake said hesitantly, "he might have a point."

Trixie raised an eyebrow. "What are you thinking of, the Krylock? That wasn't a swirling vortex, Jakey. That was—"

"The Huntsclan," Jake said.

Oh. Trixie raised a hesitant hand, knowing this was still a _very_ sensitive subject. Anything related to Rose was. "Uh, Jake, that wasn't a swirling vortex, either."

"You couldn't see it."

That wasn't something she could argue with, and they both knew it. Time to steer the conversation to calmer waters and all that. "Is it because they're ghosts," Trixie asked, "that this isn't good enough for them?" She jabbed a finger at the cup that was still in Spud's hand. "I mean, you welded that baby shut."

It was a rough attempt at a subject change. Well, subject recovery, more like. But even though everyone knew it for exactly what it was, they were no less grateful. Jake latched onto it like a life preserver. "Gramps never said," he admitted. "Fu? D'you know?"

"All I know is that I'd better get a good meal after all this work," Fu said. The chip bowl beside him was empty, only identifiable by crumbs. "And, with any magical creature that's on the nasty side, it's better to be safe than sorry. Don't make assumptions. With some of the characters I've heard about, it might be the last thing you do. Capiche?"

"Yeah, gotcha," Jake said. "Listen, Fu, we're going to head out now, okay? Give me a call if you find anything."

"Just be careful, kid."

Trixie knew the rest of what Fu Dog could've said as much as Jake did: just because the Huntsclan was gone, didn't mean he was out of trouble. Rotwood knew about him and, despite finally getting to Magus Bazaar, probably wasn't going to give up on exposing magical creatures to the rest of the world. And just because there weren't any rumblings in the magical community of bad things happening now, it didn't mean something wasn't building up. Just because things looked safe, it didn't mean they were.

Story of Jake's life, it seemed. No matter what she or Spud did, they couldn't do much to help. Not really. They couldn't do much more than act as excuses, pleading with Jake's dad to let him come over to spend the night when in reality, there was some sort of dragon emergency that Jake needed to deal with and they probably wouldn't see him at all.

"How 'bout we hit my place and play some video games?" Trixie suggested as they headed out of the shop. "If we time it right, we could hit up the skate park when the game's over and almost have it to ourselves. All this research is cramping my style."

Jake laughed. "Sounds good," he agreed.

Spud, too, was grinning. "Yeah, all that reading made me hungry. Does your grandma have any brownies?"

Trixie and Jake stopped just long enough to give Spud an incredulous look.

Spud blinked at them. "They don't have to have nuts," he said. "What, are you allergic? You never told me you were allergic!"

Considering how many years they'd been friends, Trixie really should be able to tell when Spud was joking, but she couldn't. She knew Arthur Spudinski was probably the smartest kid in their grade, maybe even the whole school, but…. Heck, he could sure hide it well.

"We can make a fresh batch," Spud continued. "With chocolate chips or caramel or marshmallows or…."

Trixie sighed and started walking again, Jake and Spud following. She didn't want to admit it, but, man, all of Spud's jabbering was making her hungry. Maybe they should make a batch of brownies.

As far as Spud's ideas went, this was definitely one of the more appetizing ones.

* * *

"Maddie, can you get the phone?" Jack yelled. "I've got my hands full!"

Maddie sighed, put down the ectoplasm samples she was working with—she hoped to convert the toaster to run on ecto-energy, seeing as one of her children avoided eating toast anyway—and picked up the still-ringing phone. "Fenton residence, Maddie speaking." With so many crossed telephone lines after that technology ghost's attacks, it had become a habit to identify who she was rather than just answer with a simple _hello_.

There was a pause on the other end of the line before, _"This is Professor Hans Rotwood speaking. Are you Maddie Fenton of FentonWorks?"_

Maddie's brow creased. "Yes. My husband and I founded FentonWorks. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"_I am interested in your technology,"_ the man—Rotwood—said. _"Do you have anything in your possession that can be used to contain ghosts?"_

Ah. A client, not just a reporter. That was a refreshing change. "We have many," Maddie replied easily. "Is there anything in particular you are looking for?"

Another pause. _"Something of moderate size, perhaps three foot square by four?"_

"Just a standard cage?" she asked. Realizing her mistake, she clarified with, "Phase proof?"

"_Can you guarantee that?"_

"Certainly," Maddie said. "We check everything in our inventory. We can build a custom cage, to your specifications, if you tell us precisely what kind of ghost you plan to catch."

"_Humanoid,"_ was the response. _"Young in appearance. Teenager, perhaps fourteen or so. Short, slim build."_

Maddie, remembering the cage dimensions, said, "And you wish to give it marginal room to roam but not stand?" Without waiting for a response, she said, "We've been experimenting with our technology and have discovered how to build a collapsible, adjustable cage. We can ensure quicker shipping—only within the country, I'm afraid—than with our bulkier products, and you can program in the desired size prior to capture of the ghost. It makes for easier storage as well."

She paused, allowing the man to process the information. After a moment, she added, "In addition to the standard phase proof cage, we've options that will shock the specimen whenever it comes in contact with the bars, to discourage escape, and ones with a built-in shield to protect you from anything the ghost might throw at you, up to a level seven ectoblast, fireball, or freeze ray." She didn't bother to add that this shield would not stand up to anything but a physical attack. Sounds—shrieks, wails, even guitar chords—could break through it, even at low levels.

She'd tell him if he asked, but he had not specified that the ghost he was attempting to catch and contain could control sound waves and she really had no obligation to.

Well, none but her conscience, but despite all their advertising, they had yet to make a sale outside of Amity Park—they'd hardly made a handful _inside _Amity Park—and this wasn't a number from Amity Park.

"_These fancy cages," _Rotwood said after a moment. _"Do they come with a manual, specifying what settings are best for each type of ghost?"_

"I can draw up and include a list of recommendations with your order if you like," Maddie said. She continued chatting, naming prices and shipping costs, bartering with this Rotwood fellow and telling him a bit more about ghosts.

For someone who was interested in their products and had managed to track them down, he seemed to know very little. He'd mentioned working with traditional methods, like iron and salt, noting how they didn't seem to work, and she'd wryly acknowledged that the ghosts for which those methods were still effective were few and far between. She'd never actually encountered one herself, though she didn't admit that to him.

It wasn't very long, however, before she was hanging up the phone. She had the address and had promised priority shipping when he'd been willing to pay for it. He'd been very eager, she'd thought. But she headed down to the lab, found a cage which fit the requested specifications, and set about testing it. When she was satisfied, she packaged it up and mailed it.

It was their first sale in a very long time, and she couldn't help but smile. It would go out first thing tomorrow morning, and Rotwood should have it in twenty-four hours.

* * *

Jazz put off checking Danny's room again until she was quite certain both her parents would be asleep. It was two in the morning, and she hadn't heard boo from him. Sam and Tucker, as far as she knew, had no luck locating him, either. Tucker had gone so far as to call Valerie on one pretence or another to see if she was the reason Danny was missing in action, but the ghost hunter had picked up immediately and had even spent a bit of time chatting with Tucker, something she definitely would _not_ have done if she'd so much as glimpsed Danny.

That left the Booo-merang.

Trouble was, getting the Booo-merang wouldn't be a problem. Tailing it would be. It was Sunday night. Technically, it was Monday morning. She'd told her parents that Danny was spending the night at Sam's. That part was easy. She could tell the office at school tomorrow that Danny was sick or that he'd been caught on the wrong side of one of her parents' inventions. Again, perfectly believable and easy.

But even if she skipped school herself, or put Sam and Tucker up to it, or even if the three of them went—something she definitely would not advise, if only on the off chance that Danny showed up again—they would still have trouble tracking down Danny.

Of all the times for Jack Fenton to start 'improving' the Spectre Speeder….

She really did not want to have to ask Vlad for transport, but if they still got no word from Danny, and no ghosts they tracked down had any knowledge of his whereabouts, she'd swallow her pride in a heartbeat.

Jazz stood just inside the doorway of Danny's room. She hadn't turned on the light even though she'd closed the door, but her eyes had already adjusted to the dark. Besides, the moonlight—and streetlight—streaming in from the window was more than sufficient. She didn't need to do much, anyway. Snag his backpack. Make sure it contained all his books and loose pages of partially-finished homework. Hand it off to Sam and Tucker in the morning so her parents didn't find it and try to drop it off at school.

But the fact that she hadn't heard anything from Danny worried her. They could cover for him, yes. And they would. But she didn't want this covering for him to mean they lost precious time in finding him because he was in deeper trouble than normal. She didn't want that time to ever come. But she couldn't stop the whispers in her mind that this might be it, that this might be the time she couldn't protect Danny, that he was on his own, that she was too late….

Jazz did what she could that night, determined to make it appear, for all intents and purposes, that Danny really was just out of the house tonight and would be home tomorrow, barring more time out with his friends, but she couldn't shake the horrible feeling she had that Danny was in danger. And she spent the night tossing and turning, knowing she couldn't do anything more to help her little brother, not yet, and knowing that by the time she could, by the time she _did_, it might be too late.

* * *

A/N: Many thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read and review. Please note that replies to signed reviews will come, even if it takes me a while.


	3. Chapter 3

"Is it just me," Jake whispered, leaning closer to Spud and Trixie, "or is Rotwood unusually happy today?"

Rotwood had been relatively cheerful ever since his forty-seventh birthday when Jake had taken him to the Magus Bazaar. Jake had hoped that that would help ease off some of the pressure Rotwood put on him in hopes of him making a mistake and transforming where Rotwood could document it. That hadn't appeared to work, really, and Jake supposed it was because Rotwood still wanted to show the world—or at least the Hoboken Scientific Institute that he'd been kicked out of, something Jake only remembered because that was where Rotwood had taken him when he'd tried to show the world that he'd captured a real dragon—that magical creatures existed.

That was something Jake needed to do his best to prevent.

So, a happy Rotwood probably meant he had a lot of work ahead of him.

There was a _slim_ chance that Rotwood was just having a good day, that someone who was a rival of his like Brock was having a streak of bad luck or that he thought his most recent plan to expose Jake as a dragon would actually work, but this….

Okay, Jake didn't know anything about German songs, traditional or folk or whatever else, but he was willing to bet that Rotwood had something more substantial than just a half-baked plan to get actual evidence of magical creatures, because it definitely sounded like a happy sort of tune that Rotwood was humming.

"It definitely ain't just you," Trixie said as Rotwood announced that their project, which was due tomorrow, would be extended for one more day.

Jake resolved to actually pay attention in Rotwood's class today, thinking he might slip up and give him a clue as to what he had. A picture of a pixie? A unicorn hair? A mermaid scale? A piece of leprechaun gold? Everything Jake could think of was unlikely, since nothing would be easy to come by, but he couldn't imagine what Rotwood had found.

It wasn't like he was especially adept at capturing magical creatures. No matter how many years he'd spent studying them, he still didn't really know them. Heck, before he'd met Jake in dragon form, he'd been convinced that the tales of dragons breathing fire were just elaborations. Not to mention the whole 'scales that glow in the dark' thing. Or the 'acute allergy to human buttocks'. The guy had studied stories, half of which Jake was pretty sure had been made up. He hadn't studied actual magical creatures.

Jake had to wonder, once again, why they were even required to take a mythology class. No one except those who actually _knew_ of the magical world believed in it. Sure, some people liked it. But to most people, it was a joke, or would be if Rotwood didn't mark so hard. To Jake? It should be an easy class, since he knew a heck of a lot about magical creatures, but half of Rotwood's info was wrong, and Jake had realized long ago that Rotwood had started designing assignments to get info out of him, so Jake had had to resort to making things up himself.

Rotwood clearly suspected that, given Jake's marks. At least Haley had stopped comparing herself to him as often as she once had. She still did it, but every once in a while she'd stop ignoring his glare and realize that he was sick and tired of her playing the know-it-all, annoying little sister and would take a brief moment of pity on him and stop for an hour or two. Or, more likely, twenty minutes, because, brilliant or not, she was eight, and they were siblings. And for all that he had six more years experience in everything than she did, she was awfully quick on the uptake. At any rate, she was pretty good at making sure he got blamed for anything that went wrong.

"Today we are going to have a class discussion," Rotwood announced, ignoring the groans that met these words.

Stacey stuck up her hand. Jake was surprised she even bothered, especially since she started talking immediately. "Hey, Mr. Rotwood—"

"_Professor _Rotwood."

"Yeah, whatever. Look, I don't know about all these things, and I've got much more important stuff to focus on. So can we, like, stick with lectures so I can paint my nails?"

Rotwood sniffed. "You do not need to _paint your nails_, Miss Wintergrin. And I am sure that even you will have something to share about the topic of our discussion today." Stacey gave him a bored look, which Rotwood took as his cue to reveal his topic. "We are going to be talking about…_ghosts_."

"Huh?" Jake gasped, straightening up. Thankfully for him, this reaction was not out of place, since most of the class had shifted in their seats and took on looks of distinct wakefulness. But ghosts? That couldn't just be a coincidence, could it? Man, he'd just finished digging for that Mugwomp Cup this last weekend. It had been fine, and then it had sat safely in Lao Shi's shop while they kept up with the fruitless research, looking for a spell that Jake wasn't entirely sure existed anymore.

How the heck could Rotwood know?

"Like, real ghosts?" Stacey pressed, actually putting away her nail file.

At Rotwood's sharp nod, Brad spoke up, too. "We get to tell ghost stories all class?"

This was bad.

"Cool!" Tracey.

"Can I start?" Lacey.

"Can they be ghost stories from anywhere in the world or just local ones?" Courtney. The girl who had once been Rose's friend, Jake remembered. Before Rose had become a stranger to him, someone he had never gotten a chance to know, who had moved away to Hong Kong before she had gotten a chance to know him, happy and with her family, the one she'd always wanted but had never had when he'd known her.

"We will start with local ones, I think," Rotwood said above the growing murmur of the class. "Lore and legend of New York, no? What do you think, Mr. Jake Long?"

"Just New York?" Jake asked weakly.

Rotwood tapped his hand with his ruler. "And area," he said.

"But I don't know any ghost stories," Jake said. Rotwood was fishing for info about ghosts. He probably knew something. Jake couldn't say anything without potentially helping him.

"Very well, Mr. Long. You just earned yourself an F on your assignment."

"_What_? But you can't do that!" He hadn't even told them that this _was_ an assignment, let alone given them a chance to prepare anything and track down some ghost stories, fabricated or otherwise.

"I can and am," Rotwood countered. "If you cannot contribute, you fail. Mr. Morton, do you have any ghost stories to share?"

Brad grinned, and Jake buried his head in his hands. "Aw, man."

The rest of the class passed relatively well, at least for everyone else. It was just a bunch of people swapping ghost stories. Rotwood didn't even lecture, aside from a few comments here and there. For most people, the class would probably be the first fun one all year. Still, as far as he knew, none of the tales were true. After all, if there were ghosts hanging around New York, he should really know about it.

And considering _he_ hadn't thought ghosts were real until he'd encountered Shackles Jack and crew at Camp Mugwomp, it was a fairly safe bet that there weren't any around here. At least, not since he'd become the American Dragon. But Fu and Gramps had as good as admitted that they were pretty rare, so maybe he was lucky. Maybe Rotwood was just fishing, hoping to get a bite off someone's story or some information out of him, since he hadn't had any luck capturing any of the other magical creatures he'd sought.

But the cheerfulness, the humming, and the fact that Rotwood hadn't threatened him with detention for failing to produce a ghost story made Jake think that, with his track record, Rotwood either knew about the ghosts sealed in the Mugwomp Cup or had tracked down another one, though how he would've found one was way beyond Jake. But he had to have something. Rotwood didn't do easy classes like this. Not without a reason.

"Man, he is out to get you," Trixie said at lunch. Rotwood's class was safely over, but Jake had no doubt that she was talking about him.

Jake groaned. "I know. But, guys, that sort of thing had to work both ways, right? If I check out all these places—"

"You ain't gonna have any luck," Trixie said flatly. "Rotwood was watching you. He probably wasn't gonna check out any of the places people mentioned unless he thought _you_ were. Right, Spud?"

"Huh? Oh. Uh, yeah," Spud agreed, sounding uncertain.

Trixie followed Spud's gaze and narrowed her eyes. "Give it up, Spud. Stacey ain't even gonna consider you, especially since she figured out you were playing her with that onion thing."

"You don't know that," Spud argued. "She looked at me the other day and smiled!"

"She looked _past_ you."

"You say what you saw, I say what I saw," Spud said.

"Uh, guys?" Jake said. "I hate to sound self-centred here, but can we focus on _my_ problem? Potential crisis in the magical world here."

"Well, it's not gonna fall apart while school's in, is it, if Rotwood's behind it?" Trixie pointed out. "Besides, you might just be borrowing trouble like my grandma always says. You don't know for sure that something's going down."

Jake sighed. "No," he conceded, "but it can't just be a coincidence, can it?"

"It's Rotwood," Trixie said bluntly. "He might just be at the end of his rope. Maybe he can't think of anything else to catch. Just because we didn't think ghosts were real, doesn't mean he thinks they aren't. He might just be clutching at straws here, Jakey."

"For all we know," Spud added, "Rotwood might think he really is just chasing ghosts but not know for sure." He paused. "Get it? Chasing ghosts? Like, literally, and, you know, not literally?"

"I get it, Spud," Jake said. "I just…. I dunno. I don't want to risk it, you know?"

"Well, your grandpa hasn't called you yet," Spud said, "so maybe it is just nothing."

"And Fu's got his ear to the ground, too, and he hasn't called, either," Trixie put in. "Just chill, dude. Worry about it when it's actually a problem. You've got enough stuff to think about without trying to figure out how to fix something that's not even broken."

They had a point. Jake knew it. He just…. He couldn't shake this feeling he had. And Rotwood's cheerful attitude was haunting him. The last time he'd looked so smug, he'd just confirmed to himself that Jake was a dragon. And the last time he'd been that happy was when he'd been faced with various creatures of the magical world. Or maybe when he thought he'd finally captured them on video, had some sort of proof of the existence of something that so many people denied. It didn't matter. The fact that Rotwood had that look again…. It just had to mean something.

Didn't it?

* * *

The garage, for Danny was certain it was a garage, was now a lot more reminiscent of a lab than it had been earlier. Boxes that he'd assumed were just for storage had been unpacked, revealing Erlenmeyer flasks and test tubes and beakers and even a microscope. There was a cauldron close by, empty except for the blood blossoms that he could _still feel_ eating away at him, even from this distance. It was bearable now, though. He could think. He could focus, sort of. Not enough to escape, but enough to assess the situation.

The blood blossom petals had knocked him out. He'd figured that much out. He just wasn't sure how long they'd managed to keep him under. Long enough for the guy, whoever he was, to drag him back into the cage. Danny wasn't entirely sure why, since as far as the guy knew, he was a ghost who could get through it anyway, but now it meant that he couldn't even escape as a human. Lock picking wasn't something they taught at Casper High.

But for however long he had been out, it had been time enough for the guy to transform his garage back into something that did resemble a lab. Danny wasn't sure if they'd been there earlier, but now he could definitely see a line of jars with blobs in them. Not lesser ghosts whose only form was a blob, but the things, whatever they were, didn't seem much different, except for the fact that the jars held them. They still shifted their shape every so often, and when one caught him looking at it, it somehow grew teeth and pressed up against the side of the jar. For a blob, it was kind of creepy.

Still, for all that the room had changed, it didn't tell Danny a lot. He hadn't, mercifully, changed back to his human form while unconscious (maybe willpower was an unconscious thing, too?), but even though his captor was nowhere in sight, he didn't think changing back was safe. For all he knew, the guy might have cameras. And he wasn't writhing in pain from the power of the blossoms now, at least, so there was no pressing need to see if his human form was any more tolerant of them.

He remembered, the first time he'd encountered the things, that Vlad had said that blood blossoms were like primitive Spectre Deflectors. So, if he came in contact with them, it should hurt, period. No matter what form he was in. But he could probably get a lot closer to them as a human. Vlad hadn't been as affected by their aroma or whatever as he had been back in sixteenth century Salem. It might've been tolerance, but it could've also been the fact that he hadn't come in direct contact with them.

Fresh ones probably were worse. He'd been more quickly affected by the dried ones, since he'd been too close to the guy when the jar they'd been in had been opened, and he'd been hit with some dust. And then petals. And then…. Well, then things got a bit fuzzy. But since they were further away now and since he could think straight, he was willing to bet that whatever they gave off as part of their anti-ghost qualities didn't last as long dried as it did fresh when it was constantly exposed.

That being said, he still couldn't phase through the cage, so however brilliant a deduction it might be, it didn't help him much.

He didn't know where he was. He didn't know who had him. He didn't know how long he'd been here. He wasn't even entirely sure when he was.

The last one could turn out in his favour or turn out pretty bad, depending.

But with his luck lately, he wasn't going to hold his breath and act on the happy assumption that things would be going in his favour.

If nothing else, though, he did have one thing going for him. Reaching into his pocket, Danny carefully pulled out his cell phone. His parents would kill him when they got the bill, whenever it came, but it would definitely be worth it if this worked. Hunching up so that any cameras there might be wouldn't get a good view of him, Danny flipped his phone open (ignoring his missed calls since he hadn't cleared the one from Jazz on Saturday), dialled Jazz's cell, and waited.

It rang once.

Twice.

Three times.

Four.

Five….

She wasn't going to pick up, was she?

"_Hi, you've reached Jazz. I can't talk right now, but leave me a message and I'll call you back!"_

"Jazz," Danny said quietly, "um, look, I don't know if this will work, but give me a call, will you? I'm not, uh, entirely sure what the situation is right now, but I might need a bit of help. I came through a portal in the Ghost Zone, so even if I'm in the house, just call, okay? I don't know when I came out, so just, um, try me. Thanks."

He hated leaving messages. He could come up with a thousand witty things to shout at his enemies in a fight, but come up with a phone message on the spot? Not his strong suit.

The phone, however, had proven helpful in another way: it had automatically adjusted its time. Wherever he was, it was 4:16 in the afternoon. Normal jobs were eight or nine to five or something, right? So if whoever had caught him had a normal job, then he should be back—

The door at the far end of the garage banged open, and Danny barely had time to turn his phone off and shove it back into his pocket before the guy, whoever he was, was on him again.

"Still here, I see," the man said, sniffing as he peered into the cage. "What is it, too weak? Feeling the effects of the bloody blossoms?"

"You mean blood blossoms?" Danny asked.

A finger reached through the bars and poked him. Danny recoiled, but he didn't have a lot of room to move. "Still tangible." The probing finger poked him again, as if the guy couldn't quite believe that he was solid.

"Can you quit that?"

"Tell me, ghost," the man said, "do you have a name?"

"Hey, if we're trading names, you're going first," Danny said, crossing his arms.

"You can call me Professor Rotwood," the man said.

Huh. So the guy was a teacher after all. "Danny Phantom," Danny said. "Now let me go, will you?"

"This green energy you used before," Rotwood said. "It takes a lot out of you, yes?"

"It's called an ectoblast. Or ghost ray. I'm not picky. Let me out of here and I'll show you."

A smirk. "I am not that easy to fool, Mr. Ghost."

"_Phantom_." It wasn't really that hard, was it?

"Yes, you would be a phantom, wouldn't you?" Rotwood kept leaning in at eye level to stare at him. It was a bit nerve wracking. Then again, the whole being-stuck-in-a-cage thing was nerve wracking.

He could figure this out, though. He'd been through worse. "So what am I, your showpiece? Stick me in a cage, figure out how to keep me here, and then find me a nice place on your mantel or something?" The guy had poked him, but he hadn't brought out any sharp tools, so Danny was going to keep his hopes up.

Besides, if he specifically mentioned experiments, he might give this Rotwood character some ideas, and he definitely didn't want to do that.

"You are perkier than you were before."

Danny shrugged, figuring that wasn't really worth an explanation.

"You might be pleased to know I have ordered some new accommodations for you."

Great. A new cage. Just what he wanted. "So you're going to keep assuming I'll stick around?"

"You will stick around, as you say," Rotwood said with a good deal more certainty than Danny liked. "I am not about to let another magical creature escape me."

Magical creature? Okay, that wasn't the first time he'd heard Rotwood say something like that, but it still didn't make sense. "I'm a ghost, not a magical creature," Danny said. "If you want to go catch fairies or whatever, go ahead. But I'm not what you're looking for."

"Nonsense," Rotwood said, straightening up and turning his back, fiddling with something over by the shelves. Danny really hoped that he was just straightening things up and not digging out the sharp tools. "Ghosts are magical creatures."

"I'm not a creature," Danny argued.

Rotwood turned around with a video camera, cap off and power on. "Scientific log," he said, keeping the camera focussed on Danny. "I have successfully completed the ritual that ensured the capture of a ghost from its native realm. I have contained it using the petals of the blood blossom flower…."

He was doing this again? And on tape this time, too. Crud. Of all the times _not_ to be able to shoot an ectoblast. Danny sighed and slumped against the cage. Best to look as human as possible, he figured. Not that he was convinced he could even go invisible now anyway, but he'd passed as human in his ghost form before.

Granted, it had been the eighties at the time, and since he had cell service and had actually reached Jazz—well, her voicemail—when he'd tried her, it definitely wasn't the eighties now.

Still. He could figure this out. He knew more now, right? This Rotwood fellow collected—or tried to collect—magical creatures. So, he was like Skulker. Sorta. Except he did his research, like his parents. He was a scientist. A researcher. Probably, like his parents, someone that everyone else thought was nuts.

Until now, when he had proof that ghosts existed. Proof that had a better chance of being believed than the ravings of someone from some town nobody else had ever heard of, despite the fact that it claimed to be—and undoubtedly was—the most haunted town in America. Even after Amity Park had disappeared off the map, literally, when it had been dragged into the Ghost Zone, people still doubted things.

Vlad probably had something to do with it, Danny realized. He definitely didn't gain anything by having people widely believe—_actually _believe, as in more than just campfire stories or uncertain half-beliefs—in the existence of ghosts. It was probably a heck of a lot better to have people everywhere else just thinking that it was a hoax, a scam, that the stories were just a pathetic attempt at a tourist trap. It was safer for him that way. He had more power because he had more freedom to do whatever he wanted without people figuring anything out.

"…expect to receive the FentonWorks containment device tomorrow morning…."

"Huh?" Danny jerked upright. "Did you say _FentonWorks_ containment device? As in, an invention designed by the Fentons?"

Rotwood continued on, blithely ignoring him. "I expect to secure the specimen…."

He'd said it. Danny knew he had. Great. He wasn't in Amity Park and he'd _still_ have to be dodging weapons invented by his parents. Or, at least, he'd have to figure out how to escape tonight or be stuck in a cage tomorrow morning, one that he definitely wouldn't be able to get out of very easily. Of course, he'd have to see what kind this Rotwood guy had ordered. Some of his parents' stuff just shut off if no active ecto-energy was detected. In other words, if he changed back into Fenton, he'd be able to walk away.

Unfortunately, that was definitely _not_ an option as long as Rotwood had a camera.

But maybe, tonight, he'd get control of his powers again. Intangibility or invisibility or his ghost rays. The effects of the blood blossoms were either wearing off or he was getting accustomed to them. Whichever it was, Danny wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. The minute he was able, he was out of here.

"…twenty-four hour surveillance…."

He hoped.

* * *

Jazz met with Sam and Tucker after school. She hadn't seen Danny since yesterday morning, and it had been even longer since either of them had seen him. She'd given excuses for his absence to both her parents and his teachers, but she wasn't sure if she could keep it up if they couldn't track Danny down.

She'd been delighted when she'd realized, not five minutes earlier, that she'd missed a call from Danny and that he'd left a message.

She'd been distinctly less delighted when she'd heard his message.

Sam and Tucker weren't particularly thrilled, either.

"At least we know he's not in the Ghost Zone," Tucker finally said.

"So? This doesn't narrow it down much, Tuck," Sam shot back. She glanced at Jazz again. "What happens when you tried calling him back?"

"It goes straight to voicemail," Jazz replied. "I don't know if his phone's dead or if he shut it off or if someone destroyed it."

"Knowing Danny, it could be any of those," Tucker said. He'd probably seen every one of those situations before. "But I can't use it to pinpoint his location unless it's on."

"And there's no chance that you can fix the Spectre Speeder?" Sam asked. "Or even convince your parents to do that?"

"Dad's been making some modifications," Jazz said. "Even if I knew how it went together, I don't know what he's changed." Asking what was different wouldn't help much, either. Jack Fenton loved to blather on about ghosts and everything he'd invented to deal with them, but he could talk an awfully long time without saying something. He said the same thing about her, claiming that she talked and talked and talked and he never understood what she was on about, but that was different.

Talking wouldn't get Danny out of this, not like other times, and talking wouldn't convince her dad to put the Spectre Speeder back together before he was finished fiddling with it. Running interference, distracting her parents, covering for Danny, citing studies…. She was invaluable in the background, making sure things went smoothly. She still wasn't very good in the field, all things considered.

But without any means of transport, let alone an excuse to travel, Sam and Tucker couldn't do it without her.

But unless they could figure out where Danny was, she wasn't sure she could help.

"I'm going to set up my PDA," Tucker said, "so it'll lock on to Danny's phone when it gets turned on again. Once we figure out where he is, we can figure out how to get there."

"One thing at a time," Jazz murmured. "Right. Okay, the story for tonight will be that you guys have a test tomorrow. Danny's studying with you."

"And spending the night with me," Tucker added. "Cramming."

"Shouldn't be that unbelievable," Sam said. "Lancer's due to throw us another pop quiz sometime soon." She paused, then added, "I'll take the first patrol tonight and give you guys a call if I find anything. Tuck, you can sneak out to switch me off, and Jazz can take the morning shift. If we stick to that, we should be able to cover each other and keep our stories intact."

"How's your weapon supply?" Jazz asked. "Do either of you need any replacements?"

"We can always use another back-up thermos," Sam said.

"And if you've got any more of those Fenton Lipsticks lying around," Tucker said, "I could use one."

Jazz smiled. "Here, I'll give you mine. You're a better shot than me, anyway." She dug the weapon out of her purse and passed it off to Tucker. They kept discussing things, planning what to do in every situation they could think of, but things were still tense. Danny was missing. He wasn't harmed yet, as far as they knew, but he was missing.

In ordinary circumstances, Danny should be able to get back to them within a day, somehow. And since he'd called her, he had to be on the continent. But if it had been Vlad or another ghost, Jazz was certain Danny would've mentioned it. Because he hadn't….

She wasn't sure what they were up against, and it was kind of hard to plan with so many unknown variables.

"I don't want to ask this," Tucker said eventually, "but what are we going to do if Danny doesn't turn up and we still can't find him?"

"We will, or he will," Sam said stubbornly. "This will work out."

"Yeah, I know," Tucker said, "but what if it doesn't?" He glanced at Jazz. "Are we going to have to, you know, _tell_ them?"

"We'll cross that bridge if we come to it," Jazz said. She shook her head. "Dad's trying to talk Mom into going to some out-of-state convention later this week. I should be able to hold them off until then if I need to. But if Danny's really in trouble…." She bit her lip. "We might have better luck asking Vlad for help."

"Vlad?" Sam asked incredulously. "For all we know, he's behind this!"

"I don't think so," Jazz said slowly. "He hasn't contacted us, and if he knew Danny was out of the picture for a while, he might just invite himself over or something. But the best chance we have of locating Danny is the Booo-merang, and we aren't in any position to follow it right now. Vlad might have something to help us."

"Can you even give him something worthwhile in exchange?" Sam asked sceptically. "Because otherwise, he'd probably use this situation to his advantage."

"We'd have to think of something," Jazz admitted.

"But we'll cross that bridge if we come to it?" Tucker guessed.

"I hope so," Jazz replied. But in truth, she didn't know what to do.

* * *

A/N: Yes, I am taking a bit of literary license with the blood blossoms. Please humour me for the purposes of this story. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to comment!


	4. Chapter 4

When Jake walked into Rotwood's class, he knew something was up. He wasn't sure what, exactly, but he knew something was wrong in the magical world—or at least would be very soon.

The trouble? Rotwood wasn't teaching. And if he wasn't teaching, he was up to something. Jake was pretty certain about that. The man had come to school once with a gash across his right arm that he'd claimed he'd gotten when he'd tried (and failed) to capture a gryphon and another time reeking of fish guts after he'd been looking for evidence of mermaids all night. Being principal hadn't given him enough power to squash the rumours or questions of his sanity after those types of incidents, especially when they weren't isolated.

So to have him missing now? Probably not a good sign.

Jake stuck up his hand. "Can I go to the nurse's office?" he asked. "I'm not feeling too well."

Before the substitute had even given him leave, Trixie jumped to her feet and dragged Spud up with her. "We'll take him there," she said, grabbing Jake and pulling him out of the room. When Spud had joined them and they were out of earshot, she asked, "You get a message from Fu or something?"

Jake shook his head. "I want to check up on Rotwood. I mean, I can't remember the last time he took a day off."

"You're still shaken up from yesterday, aren't you?" Trixie asked, hands on her hips. "For the last time, Jakey, Rotwood don't know nothing."

"Yeah," Spud agreed. "So if we don't think Rotwood knows anything, what do you know that we don't know?"

Jake shrugged. "I dunno, guys. It's just…. I never heard anything. I mean, I know that's supposed to be a good sign in general, but if Gramps never found anything and Fu never found anything, can I really risk passing up a chance to see if Rotwood found anything?"

Trixie arched an eyebrow at that. "When has Rotwood ever found anything? By himself, anyway? And even if he did, what are the chances that it's something about ghosts? Slim to nil, that's what."

"I know, but—"

"You don't wanna risk it. Yeah, I get it. It's cool. We'll cover for you."

"Thanks, guys," Jake said.

"Yeah, yeah. Just keep in touch. If Rotwood did find something, we want to hear about it. Right, Spud?" Trixie glanced over at him and her eyes widened. "Yo, Spud, what _are_ you doing?"

Spud had turned to eye the lockers and nearby posters in what Trixie clearly thought was an alarming manner. Or maybe it was the fact that he was scribbling something down on the back of a poster, though as far as Jake could tell from his vantage point, it was just a stick figure drawing with arrows. "We need a distraction, right? If we call a school assembly…."

"Just because we're school co-presidents doesn't mean we can call a school assembly whenever we want! Besides, Jake can just slip out like he always does."

"But what about a note from the school nurse? We're going to be expected to have a note from the school—"

"Then practice your handwriting!" Trixie snapped.

Jake chuckled as he left his two friends. He knew their bickering was good-natured. What he didn't know was whether they did it to try to distract him, whether Spud just liked pushing Trixie's buttons, or whether Spud even realized that that's what he was doing. It didn't matter, though. What mattered was what Rotwood was up to, and Jake was determined to find out what that was.

* * *

"Wakey, wakey, Mr. Ghostie," Rotwood said. He was surprised to find that the ghost slept, actually. Well, _mimicked_ sleeping, because of all the magical creatures, ghosts were the only ones that had truly crossed the line into death and cut their ties with life. But this was a phantom, by its own admission. Phantoms mimicked humans more readily than other ghosts. Sometimes they couldn't even be identified until they did something truly ghostlike. At least, they couldn't be identified by people who weren't schooled in mythobiology.

This one, however…. It did not follow known mythology, and while much of the mythology surrounding ghosts was contaminated with exaggerations of local legends and lore, this was more…extreme.

But, given the information booklet that had accompanied the FentonWorks cage he'd ordered, this type of ghost was not as rare as he'd thought.

And, apparently, the town of Amity Park saw quite a bit of them, even if nowhere else in the world did. Curious, that. He'd have to look into it. But this particular ghost had been expelled from its dimension, and it appeared to be similar, perhaps even identical, to the types of ghosts that frequented Amity Park, according to the information from Mrs. Maddie Fenton. The cage itself had been easy to assemble. Now, all he had to do was to get the ghost into it.

Still uncomfortably aware of the ghost's ability to defend itself and its apparent ability to overcome the power of the dried blood blossoms—perhaps he needed to find fresh?—Rotwood was not about to try to imprison the 'sleeping' ghost. He'd spent much time observing this ghost. It was sensitive to sound and touch. It would not stay in its resting state if it felt threatened.

Then again, the fact that it had entered a resting state in the first place suggested that it might not be entirely stable in this dimension. There was an unnerving lack of information in that regard.

The ghost shot up, colliding with the top of the cage. It rubbed its head. "Ow," came the moan, an automatic-sounding response. Wariness came instantly with awareness as the ghost reached a complete wakeful state. A brief bout of panic, quickly schooled. But Rotwood wasn't about to think that it was gone; he knew better than that.

The ghost's eyes widened a little as it noticed the faintly glowing cage behind Rotwood. "Crud," it muttered. It pressed up against the bars of its current cage but did not—could not, Rotwood deduced—pass through them.

The tangibility of the ghost still surprised him. But this, at least, was a pleasant surprise. It made things easier. Unlike finding out that the tales of fire-breathing dragons were true, a ghost that was solid to the human touch would make things easier for him.

Rotwood glanced at the gun in his hand. It was not an ordinary gun, but that did not make it any more comfortable to handle. It had come with the cage, courtesy of Maddie Fenton. For easy extraction from the cage when time came to study the ghost, she'd written. The gun contained a net (or perhaps multiple nets; he had not yet subjected it to a thorough examination) with phase proof coating, much like the cage itself. It was perhaps not necessary at the moment, but it would make things easier.

The ghost seemed resigned to its fate. It still struggled within the net, and it still tried to avoid being caught and thrust into another cage, but once he had secured it within the FentonWorks containment device, it stopped its thrashing. It floated in the centre of the cage, cross-legged and hunched forward, keeping well away from the glowing bars.

Perhaps this particular ghost could sense danger. Or perhaps, equally interestingly enough, the ghost was familiar with this type of containment device.

"I have informed the Hoboken Scientific Institute," Rotwood began, "and alerted the media. I will not be made a fool again. You are to be my proof to the world that magical creatures exist!"

"For the last time, I'm a _ghost_, not a magical creature." It was not the first time the ghost had made that protest, and while it was nonsense, Rotwood was willing to overlook it again. After all, he could finally expose the magical world. This ghost wasn't like Mr. Jake Long with any fancy-schmancy tricks up its sleeve. It wouldn't be able to revert to human form and make it appear as if he had caged a student instead of a magical creature. It was glowing. It was floating. And it appeared weak enough to not be able to do any more than that, for which Rotwood was grateful. The blood blossoms, it seemed, had a long-lasting effect, if a decreasing one.

But he was finally going to get recognized. No more being the laughing stock of his profession, no more questions of his sanity flying around Millard Fillmore Middle School, no more battling with stubborn Mr. Long and trying to catch him off guard long enough to film a transformation. Well, maybe it wasn't the end of that, since he wasn't about to give up on the chance of exposing a dragon to the rest of the world. But this ghost was the key to recognition and honour and distinction, all of which were his due. His forty-seventh birthday had come and gone without him being able to expose a magical creature to the world, but no longer; before his forty-eighth, he would be able to prove to New York and the world that ghosts existed beyond any shadow of a doubt.

And once he did that, other magical creatures—_including dragons_—would follow.

"We have to be there for one o'clock sharp," Rotwood continued. "You will cooperate or I will expose you to fresh blood blossoms."

The ghost snorted. "Yeah, right. Look, Rotwood, I've heard a bunch of threats in my time. If you had more blood blossoms, you would've used them by now. You wouldn't be talking to me, telling me to cooperate or else."

Rotwood glared at the ghost. "_Professor_ Rotwood."

"Why? You're not my teacher, and since you're the one who put me in this cage, you haven't exactly done anything to earn my respect."

Rotwood sniffed and thought back to the tapes he'd reviewed earlier. He normally wasn't one to play hooky, but he was too close to realizing his dream to put it off any longer. He'd called in sick even before the package from FentonWorks had arrived.

Besides, his morning had been well spent. He'd found something in the ghost's reaction that he hadn't realized before. "You call yourself Danny Phantom, you said?"

"Yeah, so?"

"And you are familiar with FentonWorks?" Rotwood already knew the answer to this question.

"Let me guess, they made my lovely accommodations?" Sarcasm. Without hesitation. The ghost had its guard up.

"You have been to this town, to this Amity Park, have you not?" It would make sense. The familiarity with the Fenton name, the apparent knowledge of the cage, the ease of interaction with humans, a clear grasp on the English language apparently untainted by time in the realm of the dead.

"I've heard of it." A blunt concession. Rotwood raised his eyebrows, wondering if the ghost would be able to interpret body language, to realize without his saying so that he did not believe that the ghost had merely only heard of Amity Park.

It did understand, amazingly enough. The ghost straightened a little but still kept away from the bars of the cage. "Look, Rowood, if you know about Amity Park and the Fentons and what they deal with, you've gotta know that ghosts aren't exactly uncommon there. I mean, they hold ghost tours. And you're planning to, what, hold a press conference and announce to the world that ghosts exist? Trust me, it's been done before. You probably couldn't find a ghost skeptic in Amity Park these days. The entire town even got sucked into the Ghost Zone once, but people aren't exactly flocking to it to find proof of ghosts. No one else believes they exist, not for certain. You're not going to change that."

"This is New York," Rotwood countered. "Not some little town that no one else has heard of."

"New York?" the ghost repeated, looking surprised. It tried, but failed, to cover what was undoubtedly a simulated response with, "Doesn't that, uh, mean that you'll be less likely to be believed and more likely to be labelled a fruit loop?"

"Think what you will," Rotwood said, "but you are my proof that the magical world exists, Danny Phantom. Even if people try to scorn me here, I will find somewhere where my findings are accepted and recognized for what they are."

"Great," the ghost muttered.

Rotwood ignored it, finishing his preparations for the press conference. This one would be a success. He'd make sure of it. He was tired of being the butt of jokes. He was tired of being laughed out of the scientific community. And he was tired of other people, like Sigmund Brock, trying to show him up. The student was going to surpass the teacher this time.

* * *

Jake landed in the alley near Rotwood's place and shifted back to human form. He wasn't sure if Rotwood was going to be home, but there was a pretty good chance of it. For all that Fu had insisted that there were no disturbances in the magical community, he was pretty certain that Rotwood had found something.

Once he was certain that the coast was clear, Jake crept up to Rotwood's door and pressed his ear up against it. Not his front door, but the one that led into his garage. Jake remembered all too well that that was where Rotwood kept most of his stuff on magical creatures. "Ear of the dragon," he whispered.

"Think what you will," Rotwood was saying, "but you are my proof that the magical world exists, Danny Phantom. Even if people try to scorn me here, I will find somewhere where my findings are accepted and recognized for what they are."

Danny Phantom? The name certainly didn't ring a bell. Probably was a ghost, though, given the name.

Great. Just what he needed. Another ghost like Shackles Jack and his crew. But how had Rotwood, of all people, caught it? More importantly, how had he managed to keep it? Jake had had to trap Shackles Jack and the others in a vortex, and it was pure luck that Spud had overheard them plotting and that they'd found out what that spell of theirs was intended to do. And Trixie and Spud hadn't been able to fight them at all, when it came down to the fighting part. He was the only one who could touch them. So how the heck could Rotwood catch a ghost?

"Great," came the response, presumably that of this Danny Phantom. He didn't sound threatening like Shackles Jack. There was still that faint, echo-y sort of resonance to the voice, though. Telltale sign of a ghost, according to the books he'd been reading when he'd been looking for that spell. It was very rare that there was never any trace of that echo in a ghost's voice.

"Look," the voice said, and Jake realized it sounded like it belonged to a kid. Someone his age rather than some revenge-bent prison inmate. "Before we get to this press conference thing of yours, can I get something to eat?"

A sniff. "Don't think you can fool me. Ghosts do not need to eat."

"We need some form of sustenance," the ghost—Phantom—countered. "Do you want me to destabilize before you get to show me off? I mean, it would kind of ruin things if all you had to show for the cameras was a pile of ectoplasm. You probably couldn't even prove that it was ectoplasm. They'd just think it was a pile of glowing green goop."

Rotwood had called the media again, intending to show off his latest catch. A ghost. A magical creature.

Which meant it was up to him, as the American Dragon and magical protector of the NYC, to stop it.

Aw, man. He didn't like dealing with ghosts. He hadn't read anything good about them yet. From what he could gather, half of them were around because of some form of unfinished business and the other half were more the vengeful spirit type.

No point in phoning Fu or Gramps for help, though. While he might get a word of praise for discovering this dragon emergency, it was also undoubtedly a learning experience. No matter how painful or hard that learning would turn out to be.

There was no way to be subtle with Rotwood, though. The man knew his secret. He definitely couldn't change once he was inside, because there'd definitely be cameras, but he'd have a better chance to help the ghost as a dragon than as a human.

Jake glanced up and down the street again, and when he was confident no one would see anything, he said, "Dragon up!"

It was easy enough to break down the door as a dragon. Rotwood had turned around instantly, of course, but Jake was more focussed on other things. First things first: fry the video cameras. A bit of dragon fire later, and that was all taken care of. And then…the ghost.

It was easy enough to spot, but it certainly didn't look like the ghosts he'd met. As Jake had gathered from the voice, it was a kid, a boy around his age. But he looked solid. Well, not see-through, anyway. And he had a lot more colour to him, not just shades of grey or snatches of dark blues or browns or yellows.

And he was staring at Jake in utter surprise from behind the glowing green bars of a cage. Where had Rotwood gotten _that_ thing?

"You're not a ghost," Phantom said, gawking at him in shock.

"_Stop this_!" Rotwood shouted. He'd been talking the entire time, really, but nothing else had actually registered in Jake's mind. "What is the meaning of this? I will not allow it!"

"You've got to allow it," Jake said, flying up towards the ceiling to avoid Rotwood. "You don't exactly have a choice, yo. You catch my drift?"

"_Mr. Long_," Rotwood screeched as Jake swooped down to grab the cage with the ghost. Jake couldn't help but smirk. Rotwood looked torn between keeping him in sight and searching desperately for a camera that would still function to document this rescue. "Release my specimen at once!"

"Hold on, you guys _know_ each other?" Phantom asked, looking between the two of them. "What am I missing?"

"Now's not the time to explain," Jake said, setting the cage down on top of one of Rotwood's bookshelves. It didn't fit, but it wasn't so overbalanced that it was going to fall off. "He's got the only key to this thing, right?"

"Yeah, but—"

"I'll have you out in a sec," Jake said, taking a deep breath. Phantom's eyes widened. He opened his mouth to say something, but Jake was already blowing fire on the cage, intending to melt the bars so the ghost could get out.

He wasn't sure why they kept him in there, but Phantom didn't seem particularly harmful, so there didn't seem to be any reason not to release him. He was probably the 'unfinished business' sort rather than the 'vengeful spirit' type, which was also probably the only reason why Rotwood was no worse for the wear after his encounter with the ghost. And also possibly the reason Rotwood had managed to catch him in the first place.

The fire dissipated, but the cage was unharmed. "Huh?"

Phantom, who had cringed away, slowly lifted his head from his arms and glanced at the cage. "Must be an upgraded one," he said. "Resistant to ectoblasts and fireballs and ice rays and stuff. Look, Mr. Long, whoever you are, I appreciate the help, but if you want to burn something, start with the contents of that cauldron down there," Phantom said, pointing. "That's what's keeping me here as much as this stupid cage."

"What's in the cauldron?" Jake asked, turning around.

The moment he did, he heard a telltale _click_. Rotwood was grinning—and stowing away a Polaroid camera, complete with developing picture. "Thank you, Mr. Long. I shall now have further evidence of the magical world to reveal when I show off my newly acquired specimen this afternoon."

"Say what?"

"Even if you had managed to release the ghost," Rotwood continued, "I have more video on file that you did not manage to destroy."

"Crud," Phantom muttered. "Just what I need. More publicity."

That was sort of what Jake was thinking, too. "C'mon, Mr. Rotwood—"

"_Professor Rotwood_!"

"But we aren't in school!"

"_You_ are not in school when you are _supposed _to be in school, Mr. Long."

"You go to school?" Phantom's question barely registered in Jake's mind, but it did, and he had a fleeting awareness of how strange this must seem. For anyone in the magical community who knew him, or at least knew _of _him, it was no big deal. Everyone knew dragons had human forms. That he had to go to school wasn't that much of a surprise. Wherever this ghost had come from, he didn't know that he was the American Dragon.

Of course, from what Jake could gather, Phantom probably didn't even know the American Dragon existed, let alone had an obligation to save him.

"But I thought you understood what I have to do! I mean, I get that you want to catch me out, Mr. Rotwood, but—"

"Ah, ah, ah, Mr. Long." This was accompanied with that annoying finger wag. "Am I going to have to call your parents and tell them that you are skipping school?"

Aw, man, he _so_ did not need his dad on his back right now. It was bad enough he got in trouble for sneaking out and everything else when he had dragon business. He'd get grounded for a month if he got caught skipping school again.

"You had better get back there," Rotwood added, "or I might just have to request another parent-teacher conference." There was a pause. "With your father."

Jake had to smile at that one. After the doppelganger potion thing where he'd pretended to be his mom, Rotwood wasn't too keen on meeting her again. But having him meet with his dad was definitely worse, seeing as his dad didn't have a clue about the whole dragon thing. Which meant Jake got cut zero slack for things like this.

Jake grabbed hold of Phantom's cage again. "I'll bend the bars," he said. "You can follow me out."

"It won't work. They're reinforced," Phantom said, even as Jake tried to pull them apart and found this was true. "Just, the cauldron? If you could turn its contents to ash or, better yet, _less_ than ash, maybe by eating them or something, it would make things a lot easier for me."

"If you so much as touch the blood blossoms, Mr. Long," Rotwood threatened, "I'll personally put the video I'm recording right now on the internet the minute you leave."

"You aren't recording anything," Jake said confidently. "Not with those cameras."

"Oh, no, not with _those_ cameras," Rotwood agreed. "With the other cameras."

"There aren't any other cameras."

"I hid them."

"You're bluffing. I'd see them even if you did hide them."

"Are you willing to take that chance?"

"Go," Phantom said. "I'll be fine. Don't risk blowing your cover on my account." He paused. "Not that I'm particularly convinced a dragon can have much of a cover, unless you're like Dora and Aragon, but I don't see any magical pendant and you're not a ghost, so I can't really tell."

"What?" Jake glanced back at Phantom, then shook his head. It didn't matter. Not now. "No, I can't leave you. It's my responsibility to protect you."

"Trade me," Phantom said. "Me for that picture he took. I'm a ghost. I can disappear a lot easier than a dragon."

"I can't—"

"It's my choice, isn't it?"

Jake stared at him. "You've got to be kidding, yo. He's planning on exposing you to the press! You _want_ everyone to know about you?"

Phantom shrugged. "If they listened to the ravings of a bunch of people from one particular town, they'd already know about me. Trust me, I'm a _lot_ easier to explain away than you are."

"But I can't have Rotwood exposing the magical world! Do you know how many times he's tried?"

"Apparently a lot," Phantom said. He crossed his arms. "Trade me."

Jake looked uncertainly at Rotwood. "I don't even know if he'll take that deal."

"I will," Rotwood said, "if you do not interrupt my conference. I will even let you destroy the video tape of this session personally—afterwards, of course. I cannot have you interfering."

"But I can't—"

"It's a deal," Phantom said, interrupting Jake. He threw himself against the side of the cage, screaming as he came in contact with it—Jake realized why when he saw the electricity, or something similar, that was racing over Phantom's form—and the cage toppled off the shelf.

Rotwood didn't manage to catch it, but he did manage to stop it and right it. He fished the picture out of his pocket and tossed it in Jake's direction. Jake caught it, glanced at Phantom—who was curled in the centre of the cage, as far from its edges as he could get—and at the cauldron that contained a bunch of flower petals. With a quick breath of fire, the picture was alight. He tossed it into to the cauldron before Rotwood could stop him.

"I didn't make that deal," he said. "You know who I am, Mr. Rotwood. You know what I am. You know I can't. I couldn't if I wanted to."

"If I see you at my press conference," Rotwood returned, "I will be informing your parents."

It was times like these that being the Am Drag was a real drag. Jake turned tail, leaving Rotwood's place behind and heading for the shop. He needed to talk to his grandpa. And Fu. He needed advice. He didn't know if Rotwood was lying about the cameras. If he wasn't, he could still expose the magical world even if he did manage to somehow stop him from revealing Phantom. But even if Rotwood was lying, and even if Phantom was willing to sacrifice himself to save _his _exposure (that had to be weird for a ghost, right? Weren't they self-serving?), Jake couldn't let him do it. The secrecy of the magical world was at stake.

And it was his job to protect it, so protect it he would.

* * *

A/N: And so ends the first meeting. If Rotwood hadn't had the threat of video and photographic evidence hanging over Jake's head, he probably would've grabbed Danny's cage and made a run for it, but things don't always go according to plan. Thanks to all who are taking the time to comment on this story!


	5. Chapter 5

"_Talk to the Fu."_

"Rotwood's captured a ghost," Jake said, his words coming out in a rush as he spoke into his cell. He was back in human form, but he wasn't far from Rotwood's place. For all that he'd wanted to head to the shop to talk to Fu and Gramps in person, phoning was faster than flying. Besides, now that he thought about it, he'd probably have to keep watching Rotwood anyway. "I don't know how. He's got it in this cage that's indestructible or something. I couldn't get it free. The ghost, his name's Danny Phantom, and he's not like Shackles Jack, but—"

"_Whoa there, kid. Slow down. Rotwood's got a what now?"_

"A ghost," Jake repeated. "A phantom, I guess. He calls himself Danny Phantom, anyway. And he's got a lot more colour to him than Shackles Jack and his gang did. I mean, if you ignored a few things, he could sorta pass for human. Look, Fu, Rotwood's called a press conference for sometime this afternoon."

"_You know when or where?"_

"No. That's the problem. I mean, I'd guess he'd probably stage it at the same place as last time. That scientific institute, you know?"

"_Yeah, I know. Look, Jake, you've got to find more out so we can stop this thing. And then we can figure out how Rotwood managed to catch a ghost. I wasn't particularly convinced he could catch a pixie before, let alone something as slippery as a ghost."_

"He probably had help. I mean, he's got this cage that Phantom can't get out of. I thought ghosts could get through anything."

"_Not anything. There are things out there as harmful to ghosts as sphinx hair is to dragons. If Rotwood found something to weaken the type of ghost he captured, it's possible."_

"Like blood blossoms? He mentioned blood blossoms. I torched them."

"_Blood blossoms would do it for most ghosts, phantoms included. But your Phantom friend's probably a pretty weak ghost if they were enough to hold him in a cage, unless this cage of his was surrounded by the flowers. Blood blossoms can be used as barriers or essentially as a torture device for ghosts, but I haven't got anything here that says it completely strips them of their ability to pass through solid objects. Might break their concentration, but instinct should've taken over at some point."_

"I'm not sure that was because of the flowers," Jake said. "This cage was weird, Fu. Green and glowy and _solid_. I couldn't melt it or bend it. Phantom said it was reinforced. And upgraded, whatever that means."

"_Sounds like someone's doing some experimenting. Phantom probably got caught in it if he knows about it. Might be how Rotwood got him. Look, I'll make a few calls and see if anyone's heard anything, but you might be on your own for this one."_

"I'll keep an eye on Rotwood," Jake said by way of acknowledgement. It shouldn't be too bad. He'd done harder things.

He'd also done easier things and done things that were supposed to be easier but had turned into a huge mess that had taken a while to clean up. And if he didn't manage to stop Rotwood from showing Danny Phantom off to the world, the possibility of this turning into a huge mess was pretty good.

"_Good luck, kid. Sounds like you'll need it."_

* * *

_I did the right thing. I did the right thing. I did the right thing._

How come the right thing had so much potential to backfire?

Despite what he'd told Mr. Long, Danny really didn't want to be shown off at a press conference. It was like sending out an invitation to the Guys in White and other ghost hunters who might actually be paying attention to stuff like that. He was still pretty sure it was easier for a ghost to hide and slip through the cracks than a dragon, but attention was _not_ what he wanted right now.

On the upside, the dragon had gotten rid of the blood blossoms for him, and Rotwood didn't seem to have any more on hand. And, if Danny had this model of the Fenton Collapsible Cage pegged correctly, it didn't short out ghost powers. It was a study cage, he remembered. It allowed for ghosts to be observed in a more natural environment. It allowed the researcher to assess the ghost's abilities while in captivity.

Which, in this case, was really good for him.

Assuming he was right.

Which he hoped he was.

And, considering they were en route to meet the media, if he wasn't right, he didn't have much time to figure out a backup plan.

If Rotwood didn't have cameras trained on him right now, it'd be easy. For one, if Rotwood had the cage on the setting Danny suspected it was on, it was drawing its power from his ectoplasm. If he changed back to Danny Fenton, the low level of ectoplasm that remained in his human form wouldn't be enough to sustain the cage and its defences would drop. He'd be able to get out easily enough then.

Testing out his theory that he still had ghost powers wasn't the best plan, either. For one, he couldn't take out the cameras with an ectoblast or two with the shielding around the cage in place. For another, he didn't want to give the game away. Rotwood still thought that, even with the blood blossoms gone, there was still enough of a residual trace of their effects to keep him from misbehaving. Or perhaps he thought it was just the effects of the cage. Danny wasn't sure. But either way, Rotwood didn't know that he could (probably) turn invisible before the cameras caught so much as a glimpse of him.

That was the plan, anyway. Assuming things went according to plan, it would be easier. Rotwood definitely wouldn't be happy with him, but Danny should be able to get away and destroy all evidence of his being there before things got too out of hand.

Trouble was, when things looked simple enough, it usually meant he was overlooking something and that that something would be what was going to go wrong.

The vehicle Danny was in stopped. It was a truck of some sort, and he was kept in the back, the box completely enclosed except for a few bars on the window on the back door. The sides looked reinforced, but seeing as he was in a cage, he couldn't do much, anyway. Even if he could, the cameras in the corners suggested that Rotwood would know if he tried anything.

The back door didn't open immediately. But the minute the locking mechanism on it creaked, Danny squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself invisible.

_Please let this work. Please let me be right…._

* * *

Maddie didn't usually watch television in the middle of the day. If she wasn't out running errands or doing housework—more often than not, the chores she'd assigned Danny the previous week—then she was down in the lab. Usually. Today, however, she was experimenting with new cookie recipes and welcomed a bit of idle chatter from the TV.

She had it on the local news station—Action News, channel 4—and was half listening as Lance Thunder went through the weather. For all that he was the weatherman, she saw him reporting on various ghost-related catastrophes more often than the actual weather. He always seemed so much more relaxed when he was simply acting as a weatherman instead of as their on-the-scene reporter.

She was in the middle of adding a couple cups of flour to the bowl when Tiffany Snow came on. The news anchor was responsible for most of the town's Ghost Watch sessions, and Maddie immediately focussed her attention on the television. It didn't take her long, however, to realize that this wasn't a segment devoted to Amity Park.

"…_keeping an eye on the national news for evidence of ghostly activity beyond Amity Park's borders. A heightened level of activity reported in New York, according to our sources, has resulted in the capture of a ghost by one Professor Hans Rotwood…."_

Maddie couldn't help but smile. She knew the name, after all. It was undoubtedly the same Rotwood to which she'd sent some of their FentonWorks products. While it was unusual for an out-of-state story to air on their news at this time of day, even when the feed was courtesy of another news station, she suspected it was because of the fuss Rotwood had made. The man had seemed as eager to capture and contain a ghost as she and Jack, though he expressed it in different ways. That he wanted to publicize his success was not entirely unexpected.

It could be, however, a bit foolish. Ghosts were well known for seeking revenge, and, while not the norm, it was not uncommon for ghosts to form alliances. Rotwood might be seeking recognition, but he could be inviting trouble.

"_I have in here,"_ Rotwood was saying on the television as he gestured towards what looked like a delivery truck behind him, _"an excellent example of a magical creature. Specifically, I have captured a ghost—"_

"_Hey, aren't you the guy who claimed to have captured a dragon a while back?"_

Maddie's eyebrows shot upwards as she heard the question. It was unclear who had asked it, but the general murmuring she could hear—not to mention the reddening of Rotwood's face, which was wearing an increasingly indignant look—made her wonder just how legitimate Rotwood's catch would be. Coupled with his lack of knowledge about ghosts and his apparent conviction that he had captured a dragon—that she assumed he believed was a real dragon rather than a ghost dragon, the entire notion of which was ridiculous—she couldn't help but harbour doubts.

"_Weren't you arrested for locking up one of your own students?" _the same voice questioned. Maddie had missed Rotwood's previous reply, but she didn't miss his sputtering this time.

"_I was not arrested," _he insisted, though Maddie wasn't entirely convinced this was true—a suspicion that was confirmed when the same voice who had asked the question contradicted Rotwood's statement, saying he had sources that suggested otherwise.

"_That is not pertinent!" _Rotwood finally snapped. _"I have captured a ghost. It is proof of the existence of the magical world and proof that I am not to be found the laughing stock of the Hoboken Scientific Institute any longer!"_ He turned around to fling open the door of the truck, and the camera zoomed in closer to see what was inside.

Maddie recognized the FentonWorks cage instantly, but it appeared empty.

"_You expecting us to report on thin air now?"_ It was a different voice from the first but one which was no less irate.

Rotwood stared in shock at the cage. _"But…but…but it was in there!"_

"_Yeah, right, buddy. You're just wasting our time."_

"_No!"_ Rotwood insisted. _"It is there! I have it! I—"_

The news channel cut back to Tiffany Snow, who was looking apologetic. _"It appears that, once again, the only ghost sightings we can confirm are from right here in Amity Park." _There was a pause, then a hastily added, _"And near Madison, Wisconsin. And now, back to Lance Thunder for a look at this week's weather. Lance?"_

"…_why am I always cut off for— Hello again, Tiffany! This week looks to be a nice one…."_

Maddie was frowning. "The ghost could have still been in there," she said to herself. "Invisibility is a basic power for ghosts, and if he didn't have the cage set to restrict that, any ghost he captured would be free to utilize it." But Rotwood's past, from what she'd gathered, did little to support him. If he'd cried wolf before and been wrong, it was no wonder he'd been so easily dismissed this time.

For all she knew, he had never captured anything in the first place.

Sighing, Maddie turned her attention back to her experimental recipe. She'd hoped that this Rotwood fellow would turn out to be a legitimate customer, that perhaps, if he had been successful, they would be able to exchange information. But, once again, it seemed as if the only reliable information was from what she could obtain herself with Jack.

* * *

Jake didn't know what to do. Unlike when he'd been the one in that stupid reinforced truck of Rotwood's, the door wasn't clear to get to. This time, Rotwood was standing in front of it, and all the cameras were trained on him—and the truck behind him, meaning Jake had no way to get to it.

And short of running out in front or doing something equally distracting, he wasn't sure he could stop it, either. Not without being destructive or risking exposure himself.

He hated to admit it, but Haley probably would've been better off in this situation. People were a lot more apt to stop and listen to a cute little girl cry about something than to hear out what they thought was just an arrogant teenage boy. He wasn't sure a smaller dragon form would come in handy, but it might. The fact that Rotwood had used the same truck meant Jake already knew trying to break into it was fruitless. That was probably why he was using it in the first place; he had assurances that it was dragon-proof.

That didn't make Jake's job any easier.

He nearly did run out in front of the cameras when Rotwood opened the door on the back of the truck and stood aside so that the cameras had a clear view of the inside. Phantom sort of looked human, yes, but if he couldn't touch any part of the cage without getting electrocuted, he'd have to be floating in it, and that would just take away any doubt that this wasn't real.

Jake hadn't made it more than five feet, however, before he realized that the cage Rotwood was proudly showing off was empty.

As the reporters turned away and the cameras were turned off, Rotwood valiantly tried to prove his case. "It is there!" he insisted. "I have it. I can show you, see?" He dug around in his pocket for a moment before pulling out a small bag. Handkerchief, actually, Jake realized as Rotwood unfolded it. "I had a feeling it might try this," Rotwood said. "I was prepared for it." He flung the contents of the handkerchief towards the cage.

There was enough light streaming into the truck that the flour particles danced and glistened, but the cage still appeared as empty as before.

"It is a trick!" Rotwood exclaimed, hastily trying to keep the attention of the few reporters that had stuck around on the off chance that there was a story. "The ghost, it must have turned invisible and intangible…."

"Eye of the dragon," Jake whispered as he shrunk back into the crowd, trying to keep from Rotwood's view without losing sight of the cage. It wasn't that hard, actually, considering that Rotwood was focussed on the reporters and their cameramen.

Jake could see, just barely, curled in a tight ball in the centre of the cage, none other than Danny Phantom.

"Cool." The ghost was right. He was definitely less conspicuous than a dragon was. And a boy was a heck of a lot less conspicuous than a dragon, too, so Jake slipped around a few bystanders and edged closer to the truck, intending to get inside and grab the cage if he couldn't figure out how to open it. It was a task made considerably easier by the fact that everyone else had given up and was dispersing and Rotwood now found himself explaining to two policemen that he wasn't disrupting the peace or attempting to commit fraud by profiting from a false claim or anything like that.

"Hey," Jake said. "They're gone."

Nothing.

"I know you're there."

Still nothing.

Fine. He wouldn't push it. Phantom was probably trying to play it safe. He was, too. It was the only reason he hadn't tried to pick the lock with a dragon claw. Jake bent closer, examining the mechanism with a frown. It looked kinda weird. Then again, the whole cage looked kinda weird. "Is this thing gonna hurt me if I touch it?" It hadn't hurt last time, but then again, he'd been in dragon form. He would withstand a lot more as a dragon than as a human.

Jake reached out a tentative hand and poked the nearest glowing bar. Nothing adverse happened, so he grabbed it and tugged a bit. The cage was sort of heavy, because it was big, but it was more awkward than anything else. If he was really, really careful, he _should_ be able to get it out of the truck without Rotwood—or anyone else, if there was anyone else left besides the policemen talking to Rotwood—noticing.

It was actually easier than he'd thought it would be. The policemen had started walking the protesting Rotwood away from the truck, so Jake had a clear path out of there. It was a bit—okay, a lot—further to an alley than he would've liked, but he still made it there. He put the cage down, sat cross-legged beside it, and smiled. "Yo, it's cool, Phantom. I've got this city cased. No cameras here."

The ghost in the cage immediately became visible. He looked fearful, actually. "How'd you know who I am?" he asked.

"Met you earlier," Jake explained. "I'm Jake Long." As Phantom's eyebrows climbed towards his hair, Jake added, "The American Dragon."

"But you're not a ghost," Phantom said. "I don't get it. How can you do that if you're not a ghost?"

"Do what?"

"Turn into a dragon."

Jake snorted. "Man, do no ghosts get the run down on this? It's in my genes. My mom's side. And since I'm the Am Drag, it's my responsibility to protect y'all. Magical creatures," he clarified, seeing the look of confusion on Phantom's face.

"So there are…other magical creatures? Besides, you know, dragons and, uh, ghosts?"

Jake nodded. "Yeah. But now's not the time for chitchat, Phantom. I gotta get you outta there so I can head back and trash any evidence Rotwood has." He raised a hand—already transformed—and stuck out a sharp claw. "You know how this lock works?"

Phantom gawked at him. "Weird," he muttered. He shook his head, then said to Jake, "Unless you're really good at picking locks, it'll take too long to figure out. You head to Rotwood's. I think I can find my way back there. I'll meet you there."

Now it was Jake's turn to look sceptical. "You channelling Houdini or something?"

"Or something," Phantom said. "Trust me, I can get out of here. It's not the first time I've been in here. But if you don't get a head start on Rotwood, he might beat you there and you'll have lost your chance. He did have other cameras, you know. But I kept him busy enough that he never left the garage to do anything, so the film and everything should still be there."

Aw, man. Phantom had a point, especially if he was telling the truth. But Jake couldn't just leave him. "I'll drop you off at my grandpa's shop on my way," he decided. At Phantom's horrified look, he said, "No, it's all good. Family thing, remember?" And without giving Phantom a chance to protest, Jake transformed, grabbed the cage, and flew off towards Lao Shi's electronics shop.

* * *

_Canal Street Electronics_, Danny saw as they flew past the front of the shop and around to the back, taking the side alley. Jake put his cage lightly on the ground before changing back to human form. Danny still thought the whole thing was a bit weird, since he still expected that Jake was like Dora even though he knew he wasn't, but Danny figured he wasn't really one to talk.

It was, Danny thought, more the shock that other magical creatures existed. Ghost dragons aside, he couldn't think of too many—

Oh. Wait. Yes, he could. The Fright Knight had a pegasus, and the Box Ghost had gotten one that one time, too. Pandora had that three-headed dog, Cerberus or whatever his name was. He'd met minotaurs. And unicorns. A centaur. A cyclops. Medusa, or one of her sisters. Someone with snakes for hair, anyway. And the guy covered in eyes. Not to mention a ten-headed thing. A hydra or something. Whatever it was called. Sam still knew more about that stuff than he did.

Still, now that he thought about it, maybe the whole existence of magical creatures thing shouldn't be a surprise at all. If he'd paid more attention, he would've realized it. Maybe.

"Fu?" Jake called, opening the back door. "Gramps? You guys back here?"

"Fu Dog is out meeting with some contacts," came the reply. As Jake dragged the cage—with a bit of difficulty—into the back room, Danny saw the speaker enter. Short, wizened guy, almost a textbook wise, old Chinese man. "You have done well, young dragon," Jake's grandfather said, spotting Phantom. "But why have you kept this ghost in a cage?"

"It was his idea," Jake explained. "G, this is Danny Phantom. Phantom, that's my grandfather, Luong Lao Shi. I've gotta split. I need to hit Rotwood's to get rid of the rest of the stuff. Phantom said he could get out on his own." And before anyone else could say a word, Jake ducked out of the shop.

Danny finally turned back to face Jake's grandfather. "Um…. Pleased to meet you."

"It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Phantom," Lao Shi replied. "Am I to trust that you would not seek to destroy my shop if you are released?"

"What? No! Of course not," Danny said. "I'm a good ghost. We're out there, you know. It's just that a bunch of the good ones are content to stay in the Ghost Zone. It's usually the bad ones who try to get out just to wreak havoc."

"And you have gotten out of this Ghost Zone?" Lao Shi asked, coming closer to examine the cage.

"Uh, yeah, I guess. Look, um, Lao Shi—"

"You may call me Gramps if it makes you feel more comfortable," the old man said.

"Uh, sure. Okay. Look, you don't, er, mind giving me a bit of privacy, do you? The way I get out of these things is kind of a secret."

"You have had practice?" The surprise was evident.

"Kinda," Danny admitted. "I sort of haunt the hometown of the inventors. I've been on the wrong end of some of their weapons before."

"I would be very interested in hearing more," Gramps said, "if you are willing to tell it. But I shall give you your privacy, young phantom, as you request, on your word that you harm nothing that I value."

"Promise," Danny said immediately. "I mean, I won't do anything intentionally, at least." Which should be pretty easy, since he had the feeling that the old man was talking about people more so than anything actually in his shop. But if things took a turn for the worse and Danny had to fight for some reason, he couldn't promise that the shop would come out of it unharmed. Assuming he was still there when it happened.

"That will do." And with a slight inclination of his head, Gramps headed back to the front of the shop.

Danny breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He still did a quick check for cameras and the like, just to be safe, but couldn't see anything. Well, nothing that was actually unpacked and recording, anyway. Praying he was right about the type of cage, Danny closed his eyes and transformed. He hit the floor with a thud and was relieved to see that the glowing green of the bars started to die almost immediately. It didn't die completely, but it did mean that the defences were down. It saved energy if they only flared up when they sensed a spike of ectoplasmic energy contained within, particularly when they were set to draw energy from the ghost in the containment device. Running the power down when it was not in use was completely unnecessary.

Reaching a hand through the bars, Danny felt for the keypad that controlled the cage. This was much easier than just trying to force the door open or attempt to pick the lock. All he needed to do was key in the right combination to get the cage to collapse and he'd be whistling. Heck, he didn't even need to get it to collapse if he didn't want to; he _could_, technically, just key in the sequence for opening the door. But since that sequence was one that could be changed on the whim of the buyer, Danny figured it was easier just to collapse the cage.

When he did so, it was just a simple matter of crawling out through the sides and transforming back into Danny Phantom. He picked up the pieces of the cage and stacked them in the corner. He sort of felt guilty for not telling these people his secret when he knew theirs, but he didn't even want to risk a breath of this getting out to the Guys in White. Or anyone else, for that matter. If he had to tell them, fine, he would. But he'd rather just get back home.

Still, a minute or so back in human form had made him rather uncomfortably aware of some very human needs. Though dulled again in ghost mode, he couldn't exactly ignore them. To his relief, one of the side doors led to a washroom. He wasn't sure if he could drink the tap water, so he opted not to, and he figured he'd hold off asking for food and water for as long as he could. They probably didn't think it was normal for a ghost, anyway. And he didn't want to appear _too_ abnormal right now.

"You are quick, Mr. Phantom," Gramps said upon seeing him emerge from the back of the shop.

Danny gave a sheepish smile. "Practice, I guess. And it's Danny. Or just Phantom, I guess. So you wanted to know more about the Fentons? They're the ones who invented the cage."

"I would like to know more about many things," Gramps said. "These Fentons, yourself, and, most importantly, the Ghost Zone. What can you tell me of it, Danny Phantom?"

"A fair bit, I guess," Danny answered. "But shouldn't we wait for Jake to get back?"

"Jake needs to get back to school when he is finished," Gramps explained. "He will come by after."

"Oh. Right." Danny bit his lip, trying to remember the time change between New York and Amity Park. He figured he should probably phone Jazz back the minute she got out of school, and then Sam and Tuck, assuming Jazz wasn't with them. But Jazz would be in full out worry mode after that message he'd left her. Still, if Jake was still in school, Jazz would be, too, so he didn't need to phone her right away.

After all, putting it off for an hour or two or whatever it was didn't mean the world was going to end or anything, right? He could afford to talk to Jake's grandfather. No one was going to burst through the door with weapons pointed at him. Rotwood's press conference had been a total flop. It probably hadn't even made it onto the air anywhere.

Right?

* * *

A/N: Just a quick thanks to everyone who is taking the time to read and review!


	6. Chapter 6

Jake spent a fair bit of time rooting through Rotwood's place to make sure he'd gotten rid of evidence of both him and Phantom. It took him a while, all things considered. Partly, he figured, because he was also looking for clues as to how Rotwood had caught Phantom in the first place.

He came up empty handed as far as that went.

Phantom might know. It was the only shot they had at this point. Rotwood certainly wouldn't tell them, after all. Not without demanding something they couldn't give him in return.

Jake knew Trixie and Spud would be waiting for an explanation when school let out. And until then, he knew, they'd be covering for him in each class. It was just lucky he had at least one of them in every one of his classes. It made stuff like this a heck of a lot easier.

Of course, his last class of the day was home economics. If he rushed, he could technically make it back for that. Home ec wasn't his best class, but Sun Park cut him a fair bit of slack. Probably because she actually knew the whole truth and didn't hold it against him like Rotwood did.

And if Gramps found out he ditched her class when he could have made it, he'd be in trouble. Or at least in for a lecture. Efficient use of time. Balancing training with learning, dragon responsibilities with human responsibilities. Yada yada yada.

He hoped Trixie and Spud had managed to get him out of detention. He got one nearly every day because he was late for Rotwood's class after dropping Haley off at her school, so he didn't have to worry about picking her up, but detention ate up a lot of time. Especially when he ended up having to sneak out because of one dragon emergency or another and getting hit doubly hard the next time around, which usually resulted in his parents grounding him for at least a week—and that was _after_ his mom had managed to talk his dad out of grounding him for two weeks or so.

There was nothing for it. He still needed to get out of Rotwood's before he got home and caught him here, and he'd already destroyed everything he could find.

He just sort of hoped that Phantom would stick around for a while. He definitely seemed a lot nicer than the other ghosts Jake had met, and he might be able to help them find a way to toss the Mugwomp Cup into the ghost dimension.

Besides, Jake was getting _really_ tired of reading those books.

* * *

Danny was very careful as he told Jake's grandfather his story. It was a modified version, of course. He had a feeling he wasn't always believed, but courtesy seemed to keep Gramps from questioning every second word that came out of his mouth. He repeated the bare bones of his story, avoiding saying much more than the fact that he'd died of electrocution and that he'd taken it upon himself to protect Amity Park from invasion of hostile ghosts because it was his hometown and he cared for it and the people in it. He mentioned the work of his parents and cited how their portal was the reason Amity Park had seen such an influx of ghosts and that the stable portal meant sightings were much more consistent there than anywhere else that simply depended on natural portals allowing the ghosts to come through.

He talked more freely about the Ghost Zone and other ghosts than anything else. That was the safest topic. It was easy enough to talk about Frostbite and the Far Frozen, or Pandora, or Dora and how she'd overthrown her brother to bring her kingdom out of the Dark Ages. He'd spent a lot of time talking about Dora and Aragon, seeing as Gramps seemed particularly interested in them. But he hadn't sounded particularly surprised to hear about Pandora and the secret behind her box, either.

It was sometime between the description of Skulker and Ember that Danny had to admit that he couldn't talk for much longer. It wasn't as bad because he'd been in ghost mode since, well, Sunday, but he was _thirsty_. And hungry, but mostly thirsty. Talking for the last hour or whatever it had been probably hadn't helped. Gramps had been surprised and intrigued but was quick to comply, thankfully foregoing the questioning for now and instead simply getting Danny sustenance from what he said were Fu's not-so-secret storage places. Something to tide him over, Gramps said, until they could give him a proper meal.

And while Danny ate, it was his turn to listen. He heard about the magical world he would've never thought existed before he came face-to-face with it. He wouldn't've pieced it together on his own, really, even though he had encountered ghosts in the forms of many of these creatures. He just…. Ghosts came in all forms. He hadn't thought about it.

He should've seen it from the beginning, though. After all, ghosts existed. Ghosts of unicorns and everything else existed. It wasn't that far of a jump to realize that unicorns and the rest actually existed in the human realm, too.

He was told about the American Dragon, of course, and the responsibility that came with the role. Remembering Jake's earlier comments, Danny suspected that much of this was stuff that he was supposed to know. That all magical creatures were supposed to know. He wasn't so sure if Gramps would be so free with his knowledge if he knew that Danny wasn't a full ghost, but then again, being a half ghost with a human form meant he wasn't entirely different from Jake Long, all things considered. So maybe he would've been told anyway.

Well, some of it, at least. Some humans evidently knew, after all. Rotwood did, and he was definitely human.

Still, Danny didn't really want to push his luck any further than he had. While he had little doubt that these people would accept him for who he was in a heartbeat, he didn't really want to explain everything, and he didn't want to risk it getting out. They probably wouldn't say anything, but after hearing about a whole bunch of different magical creatures, Danny wasn't so sure the walls didn't have ears. And he didn't even really want it to get out that Danny Phantom wasn't back in Amity Park, just in case the Guys in White or someone came running.

Now that he was here, though, it seemed like he could help. Gramps was telling him about Jake's other recent encounter with ghosts, and these guys definitely didn't sound like the pleasant type. So when he was asked to take them back to the Ghost Zone, Danny didn't hesitate before agreeing.

* * *

"What'd you find?" Trixie asked as the final bell rang. She'd tried pestering Jake throughout class, but Mrs. Park had given them a definite frown. Trixie decided not to push it, since Sun was pretty cool. She was the Korean Dragon, after all. Though, Trixie wasn't sure how that worked since she was in America. Even if Sun was Haley's dragon master, if she had responsibilities like Jake did, Trixie had no idea where she found time to teach a class.

Maybe she was just the former Korean Dragon or something?

Meh. Didn't matter. She had more important things to think about, like what Jake had found. She knew he'd found something. He hadn't come back or called her or Spud over lunch, so something had kept him busy.

"Rotwood had captured a ghost," Jake replied quietly as they headed to their lockers. "A phantom, I guess. A different type of ghost than Shackles Jack. This one was friendly."

"Like Casper?" Trixie asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jake shrugged. "I guess. He looked pretty human, though, for a ghost. I mean, he had colour to him and everything."

"This ghost got a name, then?"

"Danny Phantom," Jake replied.

Spud stopped in his tracks. "Wait, _Danny Phantom_?"

"Yeah. What, you've heard of him?"

Trixie snorted. "Sure he has," she said sarcastically. "Because we all know so much about ghosts."

"Actually, I kinda do," Spud said. His friends turned to stare at him, incredulous. "What? I did them for Rotwood's independent research project. Mom said that if I didn't get a decent mark on it, she'd confiscate my board. And she actually sat in the room and watched me do my research so I couldn't just do what I normally do."

"What's that, watching rapping babies and monkeys hiding cheese on the internet?" Trixie muttered. It wouldn't surprise her, really. Spud could get a decent mark without a lot of work. Usually. And he did phenomenally well if he ever actually did try. It was like he was paying attention to things whenever it didn't seem like he was paying attention, and all of it absorbed into his brain and he could remember it later. Except that she'd swear that was still with select things. It was kind of hard to tell with Spud.

Jake, however, actually looked interested. Trixie supposed she couldn't blame him. He'd spent way too much time reading dusty old books for ghost info. "And you came across Danny Phantom?"

"Dude, I came across Amity Park. It's, like, the most haunted town in America. Maybe the whole world. Gramps probably would've had to send you there on an out-of-town assignment if it hadn't been for Danny Phantom. He's, like, the town's superhero. He protects it from all the other invading ghosts."

"Hold on, you knew all this and you didn't tell me when I was sitting on my butt trying to find any information I could on ghosts for the last how many days?"

Spud shrugged. "Sorry, man. It didn't seem important until now."

Trixie punched him on the arm. "Invading ghosts, Spud! If they're invading, they have to come from somewhere. It's probably from this dimension they're supposed to be in."

"Oh." Spud paused. "Right. I didn't think of that."

"C'mon," Jake said, slamming his locker door closed. "Let's hit the shop. We might be able to catch him."

* * *

Jazz was worried sick about Danny, and Sam and Tucker didn't look much better. She'd met them at school before class and at lunch, but no one had had any new information. Danny still hadn't called her back, let alone tried the others, and Tucker hadn't gotten anywhere trying to track his cell, either.

They were meeting again outside the school at the picnic table that Danny, Sam, and Tucker usually sat at for lunch. "It's been nearly three days," Jazz said quietly. "Danny's in trouble."

"Your dad hasn't got the Spectre Speeder running yet?" Sam asked. That was always the next question Sam asked, after she found out whether or not anyone had heard from Danny or knew anything about him. She and Tucker had stolen the Speeder many a time to rescue Danny from whatever mess he'd gotten into, and Jazz had used it herself on more than one occasion.

Jazz shook her head. "He says he's got at least another day on it." She glanced at Tucker. "If I manage to talk them into going to this convention to buy us some time, do you think you could fix it?"

"I haven't studied it extensively or anything," Tucker said hesitantly, "but I should be able to get it running, at least."

"Failing that," Sam said as she glanced back at Jazz, "we can use the Emergency Ops Centre. I mean, what your parents don't know can't hurt them. Where's this convention thing again?"

"New York," Jazz answered. "Runs from Friday to Sunday. They'd have to be there to set up by Thursday afternoon at the absolute latest."

"They booked a booth already?" Tucker asked, looking surprised.

"Dad booked one the minute he heard about it," Jazz said. "He's the one trying to convince Mom to go, but it wouldn't be the first time they ended up cancelling."

"So if they need to be there on Thursday—" Sam started.

"—they'd have to leave tomorrow," Jazz confirmed. "Right. So even if we did end up using the Ops Centre, we should get back before they do." She bit her lip. "It's just, well, they haven't seen Danny since Sunday morning. He's not around a lot, but they usually catch a glimpse of him at breakfast or after school or something."

"It's only for another day," Sam pointed out. "As long as they don't know Danny's missing, they'll just think that he's with us."

"But we haven't heard from Danny since yesterday," Jazz said. "I'm just worried, I guess. Maybe we should tell them." It would be different if they knew something, if they had an inkling of where Danny was and what sort of danger he was in. But at the rate things were going, she was starting to seriously consider confronting Vlad to find out if he had some way of tracking Danny.

And she was nearly at the point that she'd be relieved, rather than disgusted, if he did.

"There could be loads of reasons Danny hasn't contacted us," Tucker said, looking a lot more confident than he sounded. He opened his mouth to continue, no doubt to list off possible reasons, but a look from Sam made him shut it again.

"I'm going to try him again," Jazz said, pulling out her phone.

It started vibrating in her hand, the signal of an incoming call, and she didn't even need to glance at the display to know it was Danny. No one else would be phoning her now. Without hesitating, she answered it and put it on speakerphone. "Danny?" she asked. "How are you? Do you need help? What happened? Where—"

"_Hey, Jazz. It's okay. I'm okay. You don't need to worry."_

"Don't need to worry?" Sam repeated, incredulous. "It's been three days!"

"_Uh, hi, Sam. Hi, Tuck."_

"Danny, what happened? Do you know where you are?"

"_I'm in New York. I was just, well, captured—"_

"Captured?" Jazz squeaked. "By whom?"

"_Don't freak out. It's fine. No one we've ever heard of, unless you're tracking the orders Mom and Dad get for their stuff. Hans Rotwood, he said. Well, _Professor_ Hans Rotwood. Just a teacher. Not an evil scientist as far as I know. He didn't even know anything about ghosts, but he managed to get a hold of some blood blossoms, which is why I never got out of there before the cage he ordered from Mom and Dad arrived. But I'm out now. It's fine. I'll get back to Amity Park as soon as I can. I just need to help out a friend first, 'cause he kinda helped me."_

"You have to be careful, Danny. You can't—"

"_Trust me, Jazz. I'm not taking a whole lot of risks here. These guys don't know my secret, but even if they did, I don't think it would be a big deal."_

"_Not a big deal_?" Jazz echoed. "Danny, if anyone finds out about you—"

"_Trust me, Jazz, okay? It definitely wouldn't be the end of the world. These people can keep secrets. But I'm not planning on telling them anyway. How are things on your end?"_

"Don't just try to deflect the conversation," Jazz ordered, not caring that she was slipping into lecture mode. "We need to plan this out if you're not leaving immediately. You've got to—"

"You need any help from us?" Tucker interrupted. "The Spectre Speeder's still down, but if you can get access to a computer or something, I can probably send you whatever you need through my PDA."

"_Well, things would be easier if I had a thermos with me, but—"_

"What have I told you about taking it with you?" Jazz demanded. "Danny, you can't keep walking around without one. You _know_ you can get attacked at any moment, and the thermos—"

"_I know, Jazz. I know, okay? I'm sorry. But this isn't a big deal. The ghosts are already sucked up inside something. I just need to toss it into the Ghost Zone without Walker breathing down my neck because it's a 'Real World item'. That's the only reason the thermos would be easier, but I can ditch this without Walker catching me in the act and giving me another thousand years or whatever. It's fine. Stop worrying."_

Jazz pursed her lips. As if she could stop worrying so easily. Danny might be okay now, but he didn't have any back-up where he was. He didn't even have a Fenton Thermos. If a ghost attacked, he might be able to beat it down, but he couldn't get rid of it. And a human had already managed to capture him once….

"You're in New York, you said?" Jazz asked.

There was a beat before Danny answered. _"Yeah. Why?"_

"Have you paid attention to Dad's ramblings in the last week?"

_"Uh…."_

"The Paranormal Studies Convention, Danny. In New York?"

Another pause. _"Jazz, you don't need to come and rescue me or anything. I'm not in trouble."_

"Sam and Tucker and Valerie can handle things here for a few days," Jazz said in a tone that Danny should really know by now meant he couldn't argue with. Not that he never tried anyway, being about as overprotective of her as she was of him. "I can convince Mom and Dad that this would be a good experience for us."

"How are you going to do that if Danny's already in New York?" Tucker asked.

Jazz glanced at him. "I'll figure something out. Maybe dress up the Tuck-bot as him."

Sam snorted. "You really think your parents would fall for that?"

"Danny's not the only clueless one in the family," Jazz gently returned, ignoring her brother's immediate protest. "Just wait there, Danny, and keep out of trouble. I'll pack the Booo-merang and the Fenton Finder myself. If I can get away from Mom and Dad long enough, I'll see you Thursday."

"_Jazz—"_

"No arguments," Jazz said immediately. "I'll pack you a suitcase with everything you need. Try not to let your cell phone die in the meantime, all right? I might need to get in touch with you again. Unless you did bring your Fenton Phones with you?" There was no reply, so Jazz added, "That's what I thought."

"_I only went to visit Frostbite, okay? This wasn't supposed to happen!"_

"You always have to be prepared, little brother," Jazz reminded him. She ignored Danny's grumblings but kept quiet for the most part to give Sam and Tucker a chance to talk, too. It was hard not to interrupt as Danny relayed, in more detail, how he had actually ended up where he did, but she bit her tongue.

He needed to learn not to be so careless somehow, to learn to not let his guard down, to be prepared for anything…but, most importantly, he hadn't gotten hurt. Besides, this was as much a learning experience for her as for him; she, along with Sam and Tucker, had gotten a fair bit more experience when it came to learning how to deal with his absence.

Their dependency on the Spectre Speeder was a bit of an eye-opener, though. She'd have to see if she could remedy that somehow.

At least Danny was okay. Small comfort, considering he was in New York, but it shouldn't be too hard to talk her parents into attending the convention and taking her with them. Finding a replacement for Danny, though, would be more troublesome. Particularly if she didn't dare risk that Sam was right and that her parents might just pay enough attention to realize that Danny wasn't there.

No matter. She'd figure something out. She had to, for Danny's sake.

* * *

Professor Rotwood was not happy when he was finally allowed to leave the police station and go home, and he was not amused to discover that Jake Long had essentially ransacked his place, destroying all evidence he had secured of both himself and Danny Phantom. Oh, it was possible that someone else had done it, but Rotwood had been dealing with Jake long enough to know that if there was so much as a computer memory stick left behind, it would either be blank, corrupted, or filled with useless files rather than his precious records.

He was, however, sure of two things: blood blossoms could be effectively used to ensure the capture of ghosts, and the FentonWorks invention was the only thing capable of containing them—or at least of containing phantoms, as his specimen had been.

Once he had everything more or less back where it had been before Mr. Long had torn it all apart, Rotwood picked up the phone and dialled a number that he had called scarcely two nights ago.

"_Fenton residence. Jack Fenton here. Have you spotted a ghost?"_

"Actually, I have," Rotwood said. "This is Professor Hans Rotwood calling. I was in contact with you a couple days ago. I spoke to your wife. Maddie, I believe?"

There was a pause. Then, _"Oh, you must be the one who ordered the Fenton Collapsible Cage!"_

"I am," Rotwood confirmed. "Now—"

"_Did you get that ghost? Mads said she included one of those net guns as a bonus. Said you didn't sound like you'd captured a lot of ghosts in your time. But our FentonWorks products are tops. You had no trouble? Called to order more? We've got a special on Jack-o'-Nine-Tails at the moment—"_

"Mr. Fenton," Rotwood interrupted, "I am calling to ask whether you will be sending a representative to the Paranormal Studies Convention being held here in New York City. I would like to see your full inventory before I make any further purchasing decisions."

Another pause. Then, _"MADDIE!" _Rotwood flinched away and held the phone away from his ear, but he could still hear Jack's booming voice. _"Can we go to that ghost convention in New York?"_ After a moment, presumably during which Jack received a response, Rotwood heard, _"But we might be giving up an opportunity to sell stuff and blather on about ghosts if we don't go!" _Another few moments, during which Rotwood failed to get Jack's attention, and then, _"Look, even Jazz and Danny want to go! We can, uh, spend quality time with our kids while blabbering about ghosts!"_

Eventually, when Jack Fenton finally turned his attention back to his phone call, Rotwood knew there had to be a grin on his face. He could hear it reflected in the man's voice. _"We'll be there ourselves," _Jack informed him smugly. _"All three days! You can—"_

"I will see you there," Rotwood said, deciding he much preferred talking to Maddie Fenton. "Thank you." Had he not been convinced Jack Fenton would talk his ear off about completely unrelated things, he would've asked how it was that the ghost had managed to evade detection. It was a matter of settings on the cage, of course. He'd realized that much, and that he'd somehow gotten them wrong, but it would have been much faster to just be told the answer than to read the manual again.

But he wasn't a scholar for nothing. Reading had never been daunting for him, not since he'd taken up the study of mythobiology. He bid Jack a determined farewell and managed to hang up the phone before the conversation strayed too far. He'd much rather speak with them in person. In the meantime, he had a ghost to catch.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to everyone who is taking the time to comment! If anyone's getting confused about the timeline, this story began on a Sunday. And, to quote a very confused Dash Baxter, "Today's Tuesday."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Some people saw the outcome of this conversation coming, but, hey, I'll surprise you at some point (if only slightly) if you keep reading. Promise. In the meantime, thanks to everyone who has been taking the time to review!

* * *

"Hey, G!" Jake called as he burst through the doors of the shop, Trixie and Spud on his heels. "Phantom's still here, right?"

"Danny is in the back," Gramps replied, looking up from whatever it was he was doing. "He asked to have a few moments alone."

"Say what?" If Phantom had bolted, they were so dead. Not that Phantom had seemed like he would bolt, but after what Spud had said….

Trixie stared. "You mean you left him back there alone? The guy's a ghost! If you don't keep an eye on him—"

"Hey," Spud said, already peering into the back of the shop, "you've got a cell phone!"

The statement was ludicrous enough that Jake and Trixie couldn't resist following Spud through the doorway. They found Phantom and, as Spud had said, he had a cell.

"Um, I've gotta go," Phantom said slowly, pulling the phone away and turning it off. He looked more scared than he had back at Rotwood's, as if they'd caught him in the act of something illegal or something. He stared at them for a moment before putting the phone in a pocket and giving them a half-smile. "Uh, hi?"

Trixie was giving him a critical look. "Huh," she said. "You know, you could pass for human if you tried."

Phantom glanced down. "In the eighties, I could," he agreed.

Spud grinned. "Dude, this is so cool. You're Danny Phantom."

Phantom froze. "Uh…. You know who I am?"

"Yeah," Jake said. "And he filled me in. But it's cool, Phantom. Trixie and Spud know about the magical world and everything. They help me out sometimes."

Phantom relaxed a bit at that. "I've got friends like that," he said. He offered them a hand, which Trixie looked at sceptically.

Spud, however, grinned. "So it's true then?"

"Huh?" Phantom looked—and sounded—about as confused as Jake felt.

"We can touch you," Spud said, reaching out to grab Phantom's gloved hand and give it a vigorous shake.

Trixie poked his shoulder. "I don't get it," she said. "You're solid."

The display was confusing for Jake, too, but it did clear up one of the many mysteries. "No wonder Rotwood managed to catch you. Ordinary people can touch you."

"Uh, yeah? Unless I go intangible…."

"So how come you couldn't just do that to get out of the cage?" Jake asked.

Phantom stared at him like he'd grown another head. "Because it was phase proof," he replied. "You know, ghost proof? I couldn't get through it even if I wanted to. It was coated."

"With what?"

"Uh, I think the commercial name is 'Fenton Phase Proof Foam' or something. Not the same as the Fenton Anti-Ghost Foam, which is kind of like the Fenton Anti-Ghost Goo, except that stuff's sticky and the foam isn't. I don't know why they call it a foam, because it's really just a coating they put on like paint, but I guess you can rub the foam into nets and stuff." Phantom shrugged when he saw their blank looks. "The Fentons were the people who made the cage. They're Amity Park's ghost hunters. I guess if you know who I am, you might've heard about them. I've found it useful to learn about what they come up with so I can avoid it."

Jake glanced around the shop and spotted the remains of the cage in the corner. When it wasn't assembled, it didn't seem to glow, either. "So how'd you get out of a ghost proof cage?"

"A design flaw and practice," Phantom answered amiably. "Look, I don't know how much you guys actually know about me, but before you have to ask, I'm the good guy. I'm not an evil ghost. I'll admit I cause property damage, but that's only partially my fault. I try to go intangible and stuff, but sometimes when you get the wind knocked out of you, you know, your senses get a little rattled and you can't think fast enough."

Trixie raised an eyebrow. "You can get the wind knocked out of you?"

Phantom winced. "Sorry. Just, well, I still get hit pretty hard. Just because I'm a ghost doesn't mean it doesn't hurt."

Jake glanced towards the Mugwomp Cup. "That's actually kind of comforting. Did Gramps tell you about Shackles Jack?"

Phantom nodded. "Yeah. Sounds like you were trying to find a way into the Ghost Zone. It would take you ages to find a natural portal, but the Fentons have a stable one in Amity Park, so I can take it back with me and drop it off. Somewhere beyond the Far Frozen, maybe. I don't really want to face those guys if I can help it."

Jake couldn't help but grin. "Thanks," he said. "That makes my life so much easier. Fu had me reading through a bunch of old books trying to find a portal spell."

Phantom frowned. "There's a portal spell?"

"Yeah, apparently. In some old book. Fu can't remember where he saw it. He just knows it exists."

Phantom looked increasingly troubled. "Uh…. I think Rotwood had it. I mean, I blasted his book before he pulled out the blood blossoms because I realized it was written by Freakshow, and nothing by him can be any good, but I'm not sure I came through a natural portal. I mean, it would be awfully convenient for Rotwood if I did, seeing as I just happened to be flying in its path when it opened up and it just happened to lead right into his cage." He stopped for a moment. "But it's not common, then, is it, if you guys have been looking and couldn't find it?"

Jake exchanged glances with Trixie and Spud. "If Rotwood found it, then it was in a non-magical book. We weren't looking through those yet."

Phantom sagged a bit. "Great. More trouble. Just what I need."

"But I've read about you," Spud said. "You're good at dealing with trouble from other ghosts."

Phantom gave him a weak smile. "Practice," he said again. "And that's with other ghosts, as you said. Usually the same ones, too. The new ones always give me a lot more trouble and I usually need a lot of help to fight them. But Freakshow isn't a ghost. He's just a human."

"With a name like Freakshow?" Trixie asked, looking sceptical.

Phantom shrugged. "He's a ringmaster. Or was, before the Guys in White locked him up. Take it from me, if Circus Gothica ever comes to town, avoid it. Or try to shut it down. And maybe buy some Fenton Phase Proof Foam or something, since if he gets out and starts up again and manages to get ghosts under his control, he'll rob you blind."

Jake snorted. "You probably have as many stories to tell as I do. How long have you been doing this? Fighting other ghosts?"

"Since the start, really. About a year now. Since I…died, I guess. Well, and got my powers under control. The ones I had, anyway. Intangibility gave me a lot of trouble for a while. And invisibility, come to that. Flight was a bit better." He cracked a smile. "Learning to control my powers was almost easier than my freshman year of high school."

"How'd you get a phone, anyway?" Trixie asked. "I mean, you're a ghost. Who you gonna call?"

Phantom grinned. "Ghostbusters?" he ventured. "No, actually, I've got a few friends back in Amity Park who help me out. I mean, I can't exactly sneak into the FentonWorks lab myself all the time without getting caught. But since Rotwood caught me, they won't have heard from me, and no one would've seen me, so they were getting worried."

"And you've got a cell for that?"

Phantom nodded. "Not under the name Danny Phantom, but yeah."

"And it works in this other ghost dimension?"

A laugh. "Course not. But I'm not in the Ghost Zone now, am I? We've got Fenton Phones for that."

"Fenton Phones?" Spud repeated. "Like—"

"Something invented by the Fentons, yeah. Think walkie-talkie earphones with an unbelievable range and an added bonus of blocking out ghost noise. I kinda know the Fenton kids. There's a reason I know so much about their parents and am still here to tell you about it." Phantom sat down on the edge of the desk. "Look, do you guys mind if I hang out here for a couple days? My friends tell me the Fentons are coming to New York for some ghost convention, so I could catch a ride back to Amity Park with them. I mean, I could fly it, but I don't really know the way and it would exhaust me, and with my luck, some of my old enemies would show up just then. My friends can't hold them off forever, even if they do know how to use all the Fenton inventions."

"I'm sure it's cool," Jake said. "I mean, you can go invisible, right? You won't even have to stick to the back. And I can show you the way to the Magnus Bazaar if you want."

"The what?"

"It's like the mother of all magical markets for magical creatures," Trixie said helpfully.

Phantom rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, okay. That'd be cool, I guess. It's still kind of weird to think of myself as a magical creature, though."

"Trust me," Jake said, "I know the feeling. I didn't exactly know everything until my powers showed up. It wasn't until then that I realized Mom's stories weren't just stories."

It was then that Fu returned, sneaking in the back door like he always did on the extreme off chance that they actually had a customer in the front. "Hey, kids. Jake, you find the…?" he trailed off as he spotted Phantom, who was gaping at him. Fu gave him a critical look. "So, you're Casper the Friendly Ghost?"

Jake couldn't help but snicker at the look on Phantom's face. "Fu, this is Danny Phantom. He'll be crashing here for a few days. Phantom, Fu Dog. He's my magical guardian."

"Close your mouth, Phantom," Fu said, sticking out a paw. "Unless you're going for best fish impression, in which case you'll probably win this round."

Phantom smiled sheepishly but closed his mouth and reached out to shake Fu's paw. "Sorry. Didn't mean to be rude. I just haven't encountered talking dogs before. The closest I've gotten is Wulf, but he's not really a dog. Nice to meet you, Fu."

"Yeah, pleasure. Look, Jake, I'm no closer to tracking down that portal spell—"

"Chill, Fu. Phantom's got it covered. He'll ditch the Mugwomp Cup in the Ghost Zone when he gets home."

Fu looked surprised. "Really? It's that easy for you to go back and forth? I thought even ghosts had to…." He trailed off, sniffing as he got closer to Phantom. "Hey, did you eat my pretzels?"

"Um…maybe?"

"The old man gave them to you, didn't he? I didn't know he'd found my hiding spot…."

"Sorry," Phantom said. "I didn't know they were yours. What were you saying about ghosts?"

"Huh?" For a moment, Fu still looked distracted. "Oh, right. I'd thought you guys had to wait for things to line up before you could break through here. Certain celestial alignments affecting the strength of the skin between the dimensions and all that."

"Most of us do," Phantom said. "I only know a handful of ghosts who can create their own portals. The rest have to go through natural portals or, back home, one of the stable ones in Amity Park."

Spud looked surprised. "There's more than one?"

Phantom instantly looked uncomfortable. "Uh, yeah. The mayor's got one, too. But his is usually closed. Most ghosts just come through the Fenton Ghost Portal."

"Huh. Guess I need to update my library. I'll have to talk to the old man. Speaking of," Fu said, starting off towards the front of the shop, "I need to tell him not to feed my emergency food supply to just anyone…." He trailed off as he went through.

Trixie glanced at Fu and then back at Phantom. "You eat, too?" she asked.

Phantom just nodded, so Jake pressed, "You mean what you told Rotwood was true? That you'd destabilize or whatever?"

"Essentially," Phantom said. "I mean, I still need food and water and everything. Just…not as much of it."

"Do all ghosts need it or just you?" Trixie questioned. "I mean, you didn't see Shackles Jack and his gang. I'm telling you, they did _not_ look like they were getting all weak from lack of food."

"I'm not entirely sure," Phantom replied. "I know what I need, but maybe it's just my type of ghost. The others you met wouldn't've been the same, and for all I know, they just came out of a natural portal in the Ghost Zone that they somehow knew would open up then." He gave them an apologetic look. "Sorry, guys. Compared to most of the ghosts I know, I'm still pretty new at this. I've spent more time out here in the Real World than in the Ghost Zone, so I don't know as much as you'd expect."

"Well, you defend Amity Park from other ghosts, right?" Spud said. "So you'd have to spend more of your time out here looking from them." He frowned. "But I did a lot of reading on you," he said, "and you only turn up when ghosts attack. Are you invisible the rest of the time or something?"

Phantom looked troubled, like he knew what Spud was asking but wasn't sure how to answer it. "Sort of," he said, "but not exactly. I mean, being invisible isn't my natural state. I actually have to think about it to go invisible. I just consider it one of the standard ghost powers. The way I can hang around Amity Park and not get caught by every single ghost detector is more…camouflage, I guess."

"Camouflage?" Spud repeated. "Like, what, hanging out in trees all day?"

Phantom rubbed the back of his neck. "More like being able to blend in with the crowd. You know, so people can see me but not see me. Like the kids on the bottom of the social ladder at school."

Trixie snorted. "Yeah, don't go there. Jakey hit bottom for a while when it got out that he thought he was a dragon."

Phantom looked curious. "That you thought—?"

Jake sighed. He couldn't not explain it now that Trixie had brought it up. "Brad—he's the head jock at school—got a hold of my permanent record, complete with Rotwood's personal notes about me being a fire-breathing dragon. I mean, people just assumed it was fake, you know? But even though I insisted it wasn't true and that Rotwood was just making stuff up, people wouldn't drop it. It was too funny to think that I thought I was a dragon." He didn't bother trying to cover up the sarcasm in his voice.

"It was a cover story," Trixie added. "We weren't about to correct them."

"I know how you feel," Phantom said. "Honest. I've gone through similar things. Not like that, obviously, but the whole having a secret thing? I can relate."

"To something like that?" Trixie raised her eyebrows.

"Something similar," Phantom said. "Now's not the time for that story, though. I can—"

"Jake!" Gramps's voice, plain and simple. He appeared in the back of the shop a few seconds later. "Fu Dog tells me that Danny is in need of accommodations."

"Yeah," Jake said. "There's this ghost convention in a few days that some people are coming to, and he's gonna catch a ride back with them." He glanced at Phantom as he said this. "You sure that's safe? With them being ghost hunters and all?"

Phantom nodded. "Trust me. While they have their moments, they aren't the best ghost hunters Amity Park has ever seen. And my trick works with them, usually."

"Trick?" Gramps repeated. "You did not mention any trick to me earlier."

"Uh, well, it's nothing, really," Phantom said. "I mean, it's the same sort of thing that helped me get out of the cage. I can sometimes trick some of the FentonWorks stuff into, you know, letting me go or not reacting or something. If I'm lucky."

Gramps nodded. "If you are to be here until this convention is over, you will need a proper place to stay."

"Yeah," Jake agreed, though he was a bit worried by what Gramps might mean by a 'proper' place. "Here, right?"

Gramps shook his head. "From what Danny tells me, he is a ghost with very human needs. I was not aware that phantoms were so similar to those in our realm either, young dragon. We still know very little of the ghostly world, an ignorance born from limited contact." He paused. "Danny must stay with you."

"Say what?" Jake looked incredulous. "Gramps, he can't! He's a ghost!"

"He is a phantom with a greater ability to mimic humans than the ghosts you trapped in that trophy," Gramps said, nodding at the Mugwomp Cup. "And he is in need of a place to stay, something with which you can provide him."

"But isn't there, like, a hotel or something he can stay in?" Jake pressed, desperate not to have to take home another magical creature. It hadn't worked out so well last time. Granted, last time, it had been a troll, and only for the day, but…. It couldn't end well, not if the past was anything to go by. And his mom _really_ didn't like it when it happened. And he just got into loads of trouble with his dad.

"You are the American Dragon, young one," Gramps said.

Jake didn't like the note of finality in the tone, but a quick look at Trixie and Spud told him he was on his own. "But—"

"I shall tell Susan to expect him," Gramps said before heading back to the front of the shop.

"Aw, man," Jake groaned. Even with the warning, his mother was still going to kill him. Probably. Maybe if he explained that it wasn't his idea….

"Sorry," Phantom said. "I don't mean to be a lot of trouble."

Jake frowned. "How hard is it to do that trick of yours?"

"The…trick?"

Jake nodded. "You know, blending in. 'Cause my dad…. Dad doesn't know, you know? About any of this."

Phantom glanced down. "I get it," he said slowly. "I just…." He trailed off, looking up. "It's a secret. My secret. There are only two other ghosts out there who can do this, and only three humans who know about it. I don't know if I can risk it."

Trixie looked incredulous. "It's not like we're gonna blab to anyone," she said. "Who we gonna tell, anyway?"

"Well, it's like…. Jake, it's kinda like your secret. I mean, how many people know about you? Not magical creatures like Fu or your grandpa and whoever else in your family, but ordinary humans?"

Jake blinked. "Just Trixie and Spud and Rotwood, now." His mom probably didn't count, and he wasn't about to tell Phantom about Rose.

Besides, Rose didn't remember him anymore, so technically, she didn't know.

Even if that was hard to acknowledge.

"Yeah," Phantom said. "So it's the same idea. I just don't want to take the risk, not if I don't have to."

"You glow," Trixie pointed out. "That ain't exactly gonna help you pass as human."

Phantom swallowed. "How gullible are your parents?" he asked Jake.

Jake sighed. "Fine. But I ain't coming up with the explanation, you hear? So you better make it good." He didn't want to give in, really. He wanted to know what the heck was so important that Phantom couldn't do whatever he did every single day he was in Amity Park. But he knew he shouldn't ask. If Gramps heard about it, he'd get a lecture. It was his duty to protect magical creatures, after all. If Phantom thought doing this trick of his could mean his exposure in any way, however counterintuitive that sounded, Jake should be doing everything he could to make sure it didn't come down to that.

"What's your dad do, anyway?" Phantom asked.

"He's a financial planner," Jake admitted. "You probably won't have too much trouble. He's missed stuff like elves in the kitchen and a troll in the house and my little sister turning into…." He trailed off. The actual details didn't really matter, and it was sort of painful to admit it all, after the fight he'd put up. Not that it had been much of a fight, but he'd definitely come off as unwilling.

"A dragon?" Phantom guessed.

"Well, she can, too, but he hasn't caught us at it. It was an evil inter-dimensional creature. A Krylock. Think of a cross between a cobra and a scorpion. I kind of spiked some cupcakes with its venom and she ate one and…. It got sorted out, anyway, so it doesn't matter."

"Yeah, those were fun times. Almost getting killed always gives me such a thrill," Trixie deadpanned, and Jake guessed that even Phantom could figure out all the different inflections in her voice despite only just having met her. "But me and Spud should probably split, Jakey. We'll catch you tomorrow."

"Sounds good, Trix. See you guys."

When Trixie and Spud were gone, Phantom asked, "So, just one sister?"

"Yeah, one who makes me wish I was an only child. Do you know how embarrassing it is to be made to look like a complete idiot by your younger sister?"

"I know the feeling with an older sister," Phantom confessed, smiling slightly. "What's her name? Your sister?"

"Haley. Mom's Susan and Dad's Jonathan. We get the dragon thing from Mom, but it skipped her generation."

"So your mom never told your dad?"

Jake shook his head. "She was going to, once, back in high school. And she still plans to, sometime. She's just not sure how he'd take it, so she's waiting for a good time to spring it on him." He glanced away for a moment before admitting, "I tried to change that once. I got a hold of this hourglass thing. It was a magical artefact that let me travel in time. Mom had this letter explaining everything that she was going to give Dad but she never did, so I took it from her and slipped it into his locker and…." Jake winced at the memory. "It didn't go so hot."

"Did things get erased?" Phantom asked. "You know, reset?"

Jake shook his head. "I had to convince Dad of the truth and get him to accept that it wasn't a terrible thing and then convince him that he'd dreamed it. I got my parents back together, anyway."

"So you didn't do any major damage to the timestream," Phantom deduced. "Yeah, once I was a ghost, I went back in time and messed things up, big time. It got reset, and I figured out how to solve the problem a different way, but I've definitely learned my lesson."

Jake perked his ears up. "You've time travelled, too? How?"

"Clockwork," Phantom answered. "He's the ghost of time. I begged for a favour. He relented. Just to teach me a lesson, I think. It worked. He reset the timeline to just before I'd meddled and screwed things up, so the present I'd created never came to be, but I'm not going to be looking into trying that again. It's a lot easier to destroy the present than to fix it when you're trying to work in the past." Perhaps seeing Jake's alarmed look, Phantom added, "Clockwork doesn't normally let people meddle like that. He's not supposed to himself, even, though that's not to say he's never done it. He just kind of watches over things, but if there's something to be done, he's the one doing it."

"Are there ghosts for everything?"

"If there are, I definitely haven't met them all." Phantom looked thoughtful for a moment. "You know the story of Pandora?" he asked.

After the incident with Spud and Eli Pandarus and Pandora's Box, Jake couldn't really forget it. "Yeah."

"I've met her," Phantom said. He went on to tell Jake about the time another ghost had stolen Pandora's Box and opened it, unleashing all sorts of evils upon the world.

This made absolutely no sense to Jake. Pandora's Box couldn't have been in the Ghost Zone, not if it had been found somewhere in this dimension, and he somehow doubted a ghost could open it so easily when no one out here could figure out how to get past the lock. "Hold up," Jake finally said. "Isn't this box modified with some kind of enchanted lock?"

Phantom shrugged. "It's the Box Ghost. Trust me, he can get into anything."

"But I thought only a descendent of Pandora was capable of controlling the evil. You know, the evil that's capable of 'unspeakable horrors' or whatever."

"The evil comes in stages," Phantom explained. "And that bit about the descendents might be true. The Box Ghost wasn't like the Box Ghost after he'd gotten into that thing. It was like it started controlling him. Pandora made the box to hold all the malevolence and stuff in the universe, but it was easy enough to get it back. There's a switch on there. 'Spew' and 'retrieve'."

Jake looked doubtful, still not convinced it was the same. He told Phantom about his encounter with Pandora's Box, at which point Phantom asked where it was now.

When Jake admitted he didn't know, Phantom just said, "That's because Pandora's got it back in the Ghost Zone again."

"But if it was in the Ghost Zone for years," Jake countered, "how did it turn up here?"

"For all I know, the same way a bunch of Real World items ended up in the Ghost Zone," Phantom said. "Someone took it or it fell through a portal. I mean, I could ask Pandora if she's got another box, but I'm pretty sure it's the same one."

"They don't even sound like they look the same," Jake argued.

Phantom looked suddenly serious, more so than he had before. "Sometimes things change when they pass over," he said. "The time I saw it, it was always in contact with ghostly energies. It might look different without that influence. I'm not sure how it works. But don't rule it out based on appearance. That's not a good judgement call, especially not when you're dealing with anything related to ghosts."

Jake got the feeling Phantom knew a heck of a lot more about what he was saying than he tried to let on, but Jake figured now wasn't the time to push it. He had to get home for supper, and apparently, they were having a guest. He didn't want to be late.

"Come on," Jake said, getting to his feet—he'd long since opted for the chair that went with the desk Phantom was sitting on—"we better head to my place." Whether he liked it or not, it was time for Phantom to meet the rest of his family. Jake could only hope they got along well, seeing as he was going to be their house guest for a few days.

Then again, after the troll, anything would be better. And it had to be less weird to be bringing home an odd teenager than his once-former principal, right?


	8. Chapter 8

Sam didn't normally listen in on other people's conversations, but she had a good reason to this time. Jazz had just called them to say that her parents had decided that the whole family should head to New York for the convention. That meant she was digging out the Tuck-bot 9000 and redressing it.

So, Sam was officially on duty with Tucker to protect the town from ghosts. They'd had it easy so far. The Box Ghost (multiple times), a couple of ectopuses, Klemper, and Skulker. Granted, Skulker hadn't stuck around long once he'd realized that his prey was nowhere to be found. At that point, they hadn't known where Danny was. They'd pretended otherwise, of course, but Sam wasn't so sure they'd fooled him. They'd strung him along, anyway, until Tucker had managed to infect his gear with a virus that would reawaken the long-dormant purple back gorilla protocol. It wouldn't've worked if Skulker still hadn't had some part of his suit that had been used with the original PDA, but they'd gotten lucky. It seemed that Skulker salvaged what he could from his suits before upgrading.

Frankly, Sam doubted it would hold him for long, but anything was better than nothing.

"The coast's still clear," Tucker announced, having performed a sweep of the area using his PDA. Without Danny's ghost sense to guide them, they'd had to improvise a bit. And Tucker had managed to integrate the technology of the Fenton Finder into something a bit less conspicuous—for him, that meant into his PDA. They still had to move around town since they didn't have full coverage, but it was better than nothing.

"Good," Sam said, "but listen for a minute, will you?"

Tucker took a huge bite out of his hamburger before asking, "To what?"

Sam frowned but chose not to comment on Tucker's lack of manners—or, even more disgusting, the tiny flecks of meat that had flown towards her when he'd talked. Any other day, she'd definitely have words with him, but right now they had more important things to focus on. "Everyone else," she said, jerking her head toward the table where a bunch of A-listers sat. Kwan and Dash and a few others were talking about football, but Sam, for once, had been interested in what the cheerleaders had to say.

Paulina had been talking for a while now, and Sam had been listening long enough to know the gist of it. It had been three days since anyone had seen the ghost boy. Star had tentatively suggested that it was perhaps due to a lack of ghost activity, but Paulina had firmly squashed that idea, arguing that she'd seen the Red Huntress go after that horrible technology ghost with the out-of-date slang and awful haircut.

"The ghost boy should have saved me," Paulina groused. "I'm pretty and perfect; why would he not have saved me?"

"Maybe he was busy?" Star offered.

"Humph. He should not have been too busy to save me," Paulina returned stiffly. After a moment of pouting, she asked in a low, horrified voice, "You don't think he's found someone else, do you?"

"No, no, of course not," Star said immediately. "Everyone knows how you feel about him, Paulina, and you've got every boy in school wrapped around your little finger. There's no way Phantom would pick someone else."

"I think I'm going to be sick," Sam muttered, glancing back at Tucker. "But you get my point, right?"

"That we should try to set up Danny and Paulina to make some money or something?" Tucker asked. "I didn't think you'd—"

"Not that, Tucker!" Sam hissed. "People have noticed that Phantom's not here!"

"But we can't do anything about that," Tucker said. "I mean, we can dress up as Danny and get his parents to chase us around, sure, but we can't act as doubles for Phantom."

"No," Sam agreed, "but we know who can."

Tucker gaped at her, obviously managing to follow her train of thought this time. "You seriously want to look for this guy?"

"Do you have any better ideas?"

"Sam, he could wreck the town!"

"We'll bargain with him."

"And if it doesn't work?"

"Sic Valerie on him. Between the three of us, we have a chance. Look, Tuck, the worst that can happen is that Valerie catches him and realizes it's not Phantom. Then Danny has an excuse for all the bad things that it looks like he's done."

Tucker snorted. "That's not the worst that can happen."

"I'm trying to be optimistic for once, okay?"

"Being optimistic doesn't mean thinking crazy, Sam. How're we even going to get around in the Ghost Zone without the Spectre Speeder?"

"Well, we can either figure something out or pull a few strings."

"What strings?"

Sam shrugged. "There are a few ghosts out there that would help us out. Cujo will come if we call. He knows us, and we should be able to calm him down before he trashes the place. We can send him to Dora, and then—"

"It'd be easier to try to build a jet sled like Valerie's!"

"You get on that, then. We'll see who gets finished first."

Tucker blinked. "You know this is nuts, right?"

"If I'm going to be blamed for stuff when it goes wrong, it might as well actually be my fault," Sam said. Tucker made a face at her words, and she couldn't really blame him. Sure, she'd taken the heat a few times, but sometimes it actually had been her fault, or at least partially so. And Danny hadn't blamed her for a lot of things since their last major run-in with Desiree.

Tucker sighed. "You tell Jazz the plan, then. She'll let us know when we're clear to move. I'll recalibrate my PDA and we can search another section of town once I'm done my snack."

Sam grabbed the tray from Tucker, complete with fries, pop, half-finished burger, and various wrappers, sticky napkins, and condiments. "Guess what?" she said, standing up and heading to the trash before he could stop her. "You're done."

By the time Tucker had gotten over his shock and made it out of his seat, she was out the door of the Nasty Burger and on the phone with Jazz.

* * *

Jake flew home, Phantom following invisibly behind him. When they got there, Jake transformed back to his human form and glanced at the now-visible ghost. "You don't have any normal-looking clothes, do you?" The jumpsuit thing he wore now was definitely one of the more conspicuous things about him. But considering how much stuff his dad could (and usually did) miss, it shouldn't be hard to pass Phantom off as something other than a magical creature.

Phantom rubbed the back of his neck, looking like the question was a lot harder to answer than it should be. "I could raid your closet," he offered.

Jake considered this. "What's your cover story?"

"Uh—"

"You haven't thought of a cover story yet?"

"I was trying to look for landmarks to remember the way here," Phantom argued.

They might've kept bantering for a while, actually. Until they'd figured out Phantom's story, anyway. But they didn't get that chance.

Jonathan Long opened the door and looked surprised to see his son and someone else standing on the step. "Hey, Jakeroo," he said. "Who's your friend?"

Jake jumped and tried not to look too guilty. "Hi, Dad. This is Danny Pha—uh, _Fenton_," he said. Phantom—_Danny_, Jake supposed, since he ought to get used to calling him that—shot him an alarmed look, but Jake didn't really get why. With the way Danny had been talking about the Fentons, it was definitely a name he could remember. It wasn't even that far off his actual name. Phantom, Fenton. Wasn't like it would be easy to forget or difficult to cover up if he did. If it came to it, he could probably claim Phantom was his nickname.

It'd save him from things like 'Danny-boy' and 'Danny-o' and whatnot from his dad if he stayed for any amount of time.

"Hi, Danny," Jonathan said, reaching out to shake Danny's hand. "I'm Jake's father, Jonathan. Are you new at Millard Fillmore? It's a little late in the year for a transfer, isn't it?"

"Uh, no, sir," Danny said. "I'm, er, here in town for the Paranormal Studies Convention. My parents aren't coming until later this week. Jake's a, um, friend of a friend, and he said I could stay here for a couple days?"

To Jake's relief, his dad took the news well. "Well, if you're a friend of a friend, Danny m'boy, then you're welcome here. You can stay in Jake's room, once he makes it habitable."

"_Dad_!"

"Now there's no use standing out here on the doorstep," Jonathan said, ushering the kids into the house. "Where's the rest of your luggage, Danny?"

"It, uh, got lost?"

Jonathan looked surprised. "You've only got what you're wearing?"

Danny nodded. "Yeah. It's my, er, costume. There's a, um, contest on the last day of the convention."

"Well, I had thought it was an interesting choice of dress," Jonathan said slowly. "But I'm sure Jake has something in his closet that will fit you for the time being. Why don't you show him to your room, Jakers? I'll tell Mom to set another plate."

"Uh, yeah. Sure, Dad. C'mon, Danny." Jake grabbed Danny and practically dragged him upstairs to his room. When the door was safely shut behind them, Jake said, "That's the best you had?"

"What was I supposed to say?" Danny countered. "You introduced me as Danny _Fenton_. Are you nuts?"

Jake raised an eyebrow. "Look, I get that you're kinda sore because the Fentons hunt ghosts, but it's easy to remember, isn't it? I mean, if you know their kids—"

"That's part of the problem," Danny interrupted. "They've _got_ a son named Danny Fenton. If they find out that I was masquerading as him, I'm dead!"

"But you're a ghost," Jake pointed out.

"I've still got an afterlife, don't I?" Danny shot back. He groaned. "Look, if you introduce me to anyone else, just give me any last name _but_ Fenton. I do _not_ need people to hear someone calling Danny _Phantom _Danny _Fenton_."

"Okay. It's cool. I won't do it again," Jake assured him, wondering why Danny was overreacting. After all, the fact that the Fentons had a kid named Danny was good, right? Coincidental, but good. It'd be harder for people to realize that Danny Phantom was actually a ghost if he stuck with the guise that he was a human that actually existed. "But you know enough about the Fentons to pull this off, right? If Dad asks questions?" He could always make it up, but Jake figured that if there was any way this got out, it would be better for them if Danny Phantom could just pretend to be Danny Fenton. They probably didn't look anything alike, but unless they actually ran into the Fentons or someone who knew them, it shouldn't matter.

"Yeah," Danny agreed reluctantly. "I do. And it's not like I've forgotten how to act like a human or anything. I'm not going to just walk through stuff for the heck of it." He sat down on the edge of Jake's bed, seeming happy to ignore the room's mess. "Just dig out some clothes you think might fit me and I'll meet you guys downstairs in a couple minutes."

"Sorry," Jake said as he started rooting through his closet. "I guess I just thought it'd be simple to go with Fenton."

"It is simple," Danny agreed. "It's just…complicated at the same time. But that's my problem. Don't worry about it."

"You sure?"

"I've dealt with worse," Danny said, smirking. "You probably have, too."

Jake couldn't argue with that one. He pulled out a few things that he didn't wear if he could avoid it—like a nicer pair of pants his mom had bought him once that were still a little too long but not worth taking to get hemmed—and tossed them in Danny's direction. "You can see what fits you," Jake said. He waved a hand at various drawers, telling Danny where he kept his T-shirts, his long-sleeved shirts, his pants, his socks, his pyjamas—everything, basically—and added, "Just wear whatever. Come down when you're ready. Hang a left at the bottom of the stairs."

"Thanks," Danny said, picking up a few things to check their length. "I'll be down soon." He paused, but Jake wasn't quite out of the room before Danny added, "I really appreciate this. I know you didn't really want to do this."

Jake gave him a partial shrug. "I just don't want Dad to find out," he said. "But you're cool, Phantom. Danny, I mean. You can lay low, right?"

Danny chuckled. "I'm Danny Fenton, right? I've got ghost hunters for parents. Trust me, Jake. That's the bottom of the social ladder. If I didn't know how to lay low, I'd have it a lot worse than I do now."

Jake laughed, acknowledging Danny's statement with a wave before shutting the door behind him. Maybe this wouldn't be the end of the world. Like he'd said, Danny could still act like a human. He could pull this off. There was no reason for Jonathan Long to suspect that there was a ghost living under his roof. It'd be cool. If Danny didn't wreck anything, even his mom wouldn't have anything to say against their impromptu house guest.

* * *

It took Danny a while to find a pair of matching socks—if Jake's mother did his laundry for him, she made him fold it—but eventually he'd changed into something clean and considerably more normal-looking than a HAZMAT suit, at least for a teenager: a green T-shirt and jeans. The jeans were a little short, admittedly, but they still fit well enough. He wasn't that much older than Jake, he guessed, but neither had hit their growth spurt yet.

He'd considered trying to pull off a partial transformation, something that would land him in an outfit essentially identical to what he'd worn the time he and Dash had been shrunk by the Fenton Crammer—jeans, sneakers, and a black T-shirt bearing his DP symbol—but he hadn't actually tried that yet. Usually, it was all or nothing. Ghost or human. Phantom or Fenton.

Not Phantom playing Fenton. Or Fenton playing Phantom, which he probably would've seriously considered at one point if he wasn't pretty sure that would just be asking for his secret to be blown. It was just…. The A-listers had parties where _he_ was the dress code. It would've been easy to arrive in the best costume at the party if he ever got invited. Or decided to crash or whatever.

But, no. He had more important things to be doing, like saving the town, and even if it was a quiet night, he shouldn't be doing something so risky.

If Sam didn't give him a lecture, Jazz definitely would.

Still, he looked human enough now that he was in ordinary clothes. The hair could be explained away by bleach or something, and the ghostly glow wasn't terribly evident in the light. It was tempting to just revert back to human form, but that would require explaining what he didn't want to do. Heck, even if he attempted and was successful at just transforming his clothes back into his own, he'd have to explain to Jake where they'd come from, since he'd know what he'd had in his closet, and Danny didn't really want to do that right now.

Taking a left at the bottom of the stairs eventually brought him into the kitchen. Danny stood self-consciously in the doorway for a moment, noticing how much better organized this kitchen looked to be than the one he was used to. His mom wasn't messy, but she didn't find it any stranger than his dad to stack the ectoplasm samples next to the condiments in the fridge or to put the toaster next to the cooler that contained the latest food that had come back to life in their kitchen. Here, though…. It kind of seemed like Jake's mom was a professional or something. Danny didn't know much about kitchen stuff, admittedly, but he'd guess these things were good quality.

"You must be Danny." Danny blinked and realized that Jake's mom was standing in front of him. "Susan. It's nice to meet you." She shook his hand, drawing him into the kitchen and giving him a slight push towards the table. "There's a spot for you between Jake and Haley."

Jake's younger sister was looking at him critically. "That's Jake's shirt," she announced. "He never wears it," she confided as Danny sat down. "He doesn't like it." She glanced at him again. "Are you wearing all of Jake's clothes?"

"Haley, don't be rude," Susan called. She looked back at them. "What would you like to drink, Danny? Milk, water, juice—?"

"Uh, milk, I guess," Danny said. It would be nice to get some that he knew wasn't going to glow slightly. "Thanks."

As Susan set a glass down in front of Danny, she asked in a low voice, "Jake has given you the ground rules, right?"

"Mom, I _said_ I did!"

Danny nodded. "Yes, Mrs. Long. Don't worry. I won't do anything unusual."

"It's Susan," she corrected. "And Haley," she added as her youngest opened her mouth, "save your questions for after supper."

Danny couldn't help but smirk at the grin that crossed over Jake's face at that. For all that his sister was a lot younger than him, he seemed to have a similar relationship with her as Danny did with Jazz. Maybe it was a sibling thing. Or being the brother with the annoying know-it-all for a sister.

Supper went well, relatively speaking. They had some mouth-watering spaghetti (which probably tasted even better because he was still hungry), and Danny dutifully answered all of Jonathan Long's questions. He ignored the occasional bug-eyed stare from Jake as he gave a bit more detail than strictly necessary, since he was playing being who he was instead of actually being who he was….

It might get confusing in the future, but it was easy enough now. "My parents should be here Thursday," he said after swallowing his last mouthful of spaghetti. "I should get out of your hair then, but if something goes wrong…." He trailed off.

"Not to worry," Jonathan said. "You're welcome here as long as you need a place. Now, your parents—how did they get into their line of work, if you don't mind my asking?"

"They met in college," Danny answered. "I know Dad was experimenting with it before that, but I think Mom was dabbling in all sorts of things and didn't really get into it until she'd met Dad." He paused, then figured if he'd gone this far, he might as well finish the story. If there was a chance that Jake was going to be dealing with more ghosts in the future, it would be good for him to know more about things anyway. "Have you heard of Vlad Masters?"

"Have I?" Jonathan said. "He only owns the majority of the shares in the company I work for."

Danny made a face, but he wasn't sure why he was at all surprised. Vlad seemed to have his fingers in an awful lot of pots. "Yeah. Well, Vlad's an old college friend of theirs. Dad's, mostly. But the three of them were really interested in the paranormal, and they actually built a prototype to the portal that my parents have in our basement."

"A…portal?" Susan repeated slowly.

Danny nodded. "The Fenton Ghost Portal, they call it. It's a doorway into the Ghost Zone. The dimension where ghosts live," he added. He had to smile at the look on Jonathan's face. "I live in Amity Park. Ghosts are old news for us. They've been coming through ever since the portal was activated. My friend Tucker has been known to hold ghost tours."

"Well," Jonathan said after a moment, "that's very…interesting, Danny. You must have quite an interest in your parents' work."

Danny shrugged. "I want to be an astronaut when I grow up, not a ghost hunter. I'm not sure I'll be able to get entirely out of it, though." Well, he knew he wouldn't. Not entirely. He was Danny Phantom. He had a responsibility. If ghosts showed up and no one else was there, he wasn't going to run screaming with the rest of the people when he could do something about it.

He drained the last of his milk and smiled at Susan. "Thanks for supper. It was delicious."

"You're welcome, Danny. You can leave your dishes in the sink. It's Haley's turn to clean up."

"I switched with Jake," Haley said immediately. "I did them yesterday."

"I've got a guest," Jake argued.

"I can keep him entertained," Haley said, jumping up and grabbing Danny's hand. Before Danny could even pick up his plate, he found himself being dragged from the table. From Jake's groan and the chuckles from his parents, Danny figured it was safe to assume that he wasn't going to be getting out of this.

Were all little kids this strong, or did it have something to do with the fact that this particular little girl had dragon blood in her?

Haley didn't let go of Danny until they were in Jake's room. It was sort of intimidating to have her staring at him so intently. Danny blinked at her from his seat on Jake's bed. "Er, you're not going to ask me a million questions now, are you?" He had a terrible feeling that she'd just been waiting for this.

"Not a million," she countered, though Danny didn't find that at all comforting. "You're very good at acting human," she continued, "and you don't seem like the ghosts in the ghost stories I've heard."

"Uh…thanks?"

"How come you aren't like other ghosts?"

Danny raised an eyebrow. "I am, in some ways. Not all ghosts are the same. I'm betting not all dragons are the same, either. It's not much different than that."

"I suppose," Haley said, still standing in front of him. "But you can't just be an ordinary ghost."

Danny froze for a moment before managing, "What makes you say that?"

Haley put her hands on her hips. "You didn't slip up, not once, when you were pretending to be a human. Not even _I'm_ that good when I'm pretending to be something I'm not."

Danny forced a laugh. "Are you trying to say I'm human? Look, Haley, I'm pretty young by ghost terms. I still remember my human life, and I spend most of my time here instead of in the Ghost Zone."

Haley shook her head. "Of course I'm not saying you're human. That's silly. I just want to know how you could pretend to be Danny Fenton so easily when you're Danny Phantom."

Oh. That wasn't that bad, then. He could come up with an answer for that. "Danny Fenton is a real person," he said. "I know him pretty well, and I know his parents. They are two of the ghost hunters in Amity Park, after all. It's easy enough to imagine slipping into his life."

Haley snorted. "It might be easy to imagine, but it's hard to do! I used to think Jake had it easy. But you…you make it _look_ easy, and I know it's not." Danny really had the feeling he was missing something there, but Haley had already moved on. "And if Jake's stories of Shackles Jack are anything to go by, ghosts aren't—"

"You can't paint all of us with the same brush," Danny interrupted gently. "There are good and evil ghosts out there. I've met both." He gave her a small smile. "I should really help Jake with the dishes, Haley. But if you want to know more, maybe just ask Jake. I've told him most of this already."

Haley stared at him for a minute. Then, "Is there really a Paranormal Studies Convention this weekend?"

Danny nodded slowly. "Yeah. Jake said it's probably being held in the same place they had that comic con you guys went to."

Haley's face darkened a bit. "Don't remind me," she said. "But if there's really a convention, and the Fentons are really coming, what are you going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

Haley cocked her head. "Even Jake would've realized," she said. "Mom wouldn't push it, because she knows the truth, but Dad's going to take you there if you're still here on Friday, which you will be if the Fentons don't leave until Sunday. He'll want to make sure you meet up with your parents safely. And he'll probably want to meet them after what you've said. So what are you going to do?"

Oh, crud. He didn't think of that. What _was_ he going to do? Having Jonathan Long come up to his parents and start talking about…. Not good. "Uh…."

"I wouldn't ask Jake for help," Haley advised. "He gives terrible excuses. And he's the reason you're in this mess, isn't he?" She paused. "Not that you tried to get out of it. You just dug yourself in deeper."

This was one of the times that Danny actually kind of missed having Jazz hanging over his shoulder. She'd probably have a way out of this already. Actually, she might've had a way to circumvent most of this altogether. She was pretty good at heading things off at the pass, stopping them before they got out of hand. She was more likely to notice that he'd just done something he'd really regret later than he was.

Actually, Sam seemed to have that talent, too. Except sometimes Sam encouraged him to do it anyway because she figured the outcome would be better if he did whatever it was he probably shouldn't've done. But Tucker was generally as clueless as he was when it came to danger signs.

Maybe it was a boy-girl thing?

"Haley-hoo," came a call from Jonathan, "are you and Danny upstairs? Mom agreed to give us dessert if we—"

"Coming!" Haley called, cutting off whatever else her father was going to say. She grinned at Danny. "Race you?"

"In the house?" Danny asked, but Haley was already gone.

Kids were kids, then. Even if they were magical creatures, too. Or really smart, which Danny figured Haley was, seeing as she reminded him of how Jazz had been when they'd been younger. After all, she'd brought up a good point. He had two days to make sure the Longs—or, at least, Jonathon Long—didn't try to meet up with the Fentons at the convention, or he'd…well, _trouble_ didn't begin to describe what he'd be in.

Especially if Jazz wasn't there to intervene before his parents tried to shoot him when they recognized him as Danny Phantom, because if Haley was right, he wouldn't be able to change before he got dragged up to meet his parents, and even if he did, he'd then have to figure out what to say to Jonathan.

After all, the Fentons weren't exactly known for their subtlety. If Jake's dad was determined to find them and dragged him along, he'd be….

Crud. He should've just flown back to Amity Park and been done with it.

* * *

A/N: So…predictable situation? I couldn't resist throwing in the 'Danny Pha—uh, Fenton' thing, which made this turn of events an unpleasantly real possibility for Danny. Then again, with Sam and Tucker hoping to find someone to cover for him in Amity Park, maybe it won't be so bad. Anyway, thanks to everyone who reads and reviews.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: So, here's the predictable chapter. Hope you enjoy it despite knowing it was coming. Thanks to everyone who's been reading and reviewing!

* * *

Maddie was taken aback when she saw Sam and Tucker turn up on her doorstep without Danny. "Hi, Mrs. Fenton," Sam said. "Danny said you guys were packing for a trip to New York or something. Do you need help?"

Danny was home? Oh, that's right, Jazz had said they were going to head up and pack…. Maddie chuckled. With all the running around they'd been doing since she'd agreed to attend the convention, she'd clean forgotten. It felt like she hadn't seen Danny in days, anyway, the way he was always off with his friends.

"Of course," she said, letting them in. "Danny's upstairs, but if you don't mind, Jack and I could use some help in the lab."

"We'll go to the lab," Sam said instantly, surprising Maddie. "Or I will, anyway. Tuck, d'you want to help Danny? We can switch later."

"Uh, yeah. Sure." Tucker gave them both a weak smile before heading up the stairs.

Sam didn't stick around long and headed off for the basement like a shot. Maddie followed, thinking it was a shame that neither Danny nor Jazz was as eager to help out. She supposed things changed as children grew up. They used to be so happy to spend time in the lab, pleased to be thought responsible enough to be allowed….

"So what made you decide to go?" Sam asked once they were in the lab and starting to sort through various inventions. "Danny never mentioned this before."

"He didn't?" Jack asked. "I've been talking about it for weeks now!"

Maddie sighed. "Danny doesn't always listen, dear. And even if he had, we hadn't made the decision to go until this afternoon. Pass me that box of Wraith Wranglers, would you, Sam? I'll take it out to the Assault Vehicle."

"I'll take it, Mads," Jack volunteered. "You see if you can find the Fenton Finder. It's gone again."

Maddie sighed. It shouldn't surprise her that it had gotten misplaced. She told Jack they should keep everything in the weapons vault, but invariably something got taken out and never put back. Jack insisted he wasn't always to blame, and considering the number of times the missing weapons never turned up again, Maddie would have thought it a result of ghosts had they not secured their vault against that particular threat.

"Danny actually sounded interested in going," Sam commented. "I'm assuming Jazz was the same."

Maddie smiled as she started to dig in the cupboards, hoping to turn up some of their missing inventory. "He and Jazz both agreed it would be a good experience for them," she allowed, "but I'm not convinced Danny's not just looking for a way to get out of school." A glance back at the rueful look on Sam's face confirmed Maddie's suspicions. "You don't need to pretend Danny's interested in something he's not, Sam. I'm sure we both know that Danny's first love is space."

"It's not that he's not interested in what you do, Mrs. Fenton," Sam said slowly. "It's just…. It's kind of like me with my parents. I don't want to be pushed into anything."

Maddie chuckled. "I don't think anyone can push you into anything." She could hear Sam sorting through things behind her and could only assume that the girl was trying to organize the piles of weaponry Jack had left lying about the lab. "But this trip isn't entirely about trying to rejuvenate Jazz's and Danny's interest in ghost hunting," Maddie conceded. "It's not even strictly about quality time. Jack and I are trying to expand our customer base. We have one potential buyer of our products in New York and hope to make some new contacts at the convention."

She found the Ghost Gabber stuffed into the back corner of the cupboard, but the Fenton Finder was still missing. "Sam," she started, "do you mind checking the cupboards by the…." She trailed off as she suddenly realized that the Fenton Ghost Portal was wide open. She sighed. Jack must have left it open again. She should have noticed earlier.

"Uh…in a minute!"

Maddie frowned. What was Sam doing behind the Spectre Speeder? She might not be as familiar with their inventions as their kids, but surely she'd seen enough of them to be able to recognize what was finished and what was not. Jack had spare parts stacked behind the Speeder, not actual piles of—

A streak of green shot past her, heading for the stairs.

"I've got him!" Sam screeched. "Sorry, Mrs. F! Don't worry. He just, uh, ran past me…."

Maddie made a grab for the nearest weapon at hand—in this case, a net gun—and reached out to stop Sam from chasing after the ghost. She had a feeling she knew which one it was and was convinced that that was why Sam wasn't running in fear, but while the ghost dog might look cute now, it didn't take much for it to become terribly destructive. If she couldn't catch it quickly, the net gun would be useless. "You won't be able to catch it with a Fenton Wrist Ray," she said. "Let me handle this."

She started up the stairs two at a time and hadn't quite reached the top when she heard Jack's cry of "_GHOST_!" followed by the sound of a weapon discharging. Repeatedly. The Fenton Bazooka, if she wasn't mistaken.

"Jack, don't aggravate it!" she cautioned, but it was already too late. What had been a small dog—cute, perhaps, if it hadn't been a ghost—was now a behemoth that towered over them, growling at her husband and making him seem miniscule by comparison, which was no small feat.

The wall between the kitchen and living room would have to be replaced, too.

"Mom?" Jazz now. "What's going on down there?"

"Just stay in your room, sweetie," Maddie called back. "Your father and I will handle this." She pulled an ectogun of her own out of a pocket. Now that the ghost dog had grown, their only chance of capturing it was weakening it and forcing it back into its more diminutive state.

She only got off two shots before the ghost went intangible and bounded out of the house. She supposed they should be lucky it had gone intangible at all, but she suspected it was more to evade the blasts than to worry about a measly little thing like their outer wall.

"Jack," Maddie started, intending to tell him to head to the Assault Vehicle—already partially packed with their inventions, thankfully—"let's—"

"On it, baby," Jack interrupted, springing into pursuit of the ghost. Maddie hurried to follow, hoping they could contain the ghost before it did too much damage. She was almost surprised Phantom hadn't shown up yet, since he seemed to gravitate towards other ghosts, but quickly pushed it out of her mind. She could ponder that particular ghost's conspicuous absence later. Right now, they had a ghost dog to catch.

* * *

"Nice going, Sam," Tucker said, surveying the damage from his seat at the foot of the stairs.

"It's not my fault Cujo got away," Sam argued.

"Uh huh," Tucker said, clearly not believing her.

Sam growled. "If you say 'I told you so'—"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Tucker assured her, even though the opposite was true. Sure, in the grand scheme of things, this probably wouldn't matter too much. It was highly unlikely Danny's parents would connect Cujo's escape from the Ghost Zone with the fact that Sam had been in their basement with a dog whistle, especially since said item was now floating somewhere in the Ghost Zone. But right now? He definitely could use this as leverage for a couple weeks, especially if Sam didn't want Danny to hear about it.

"It got them out of the house, anyway," Jazz said, though she kept casting worrying glances at the damage to the living room and kitchen herself. "It'll give us time to work."

"And we've got the Tuck-bot 9000 Danny-fied," Tucker added. "Jazz even found that old wig we used. I can't seem to change the voice pattern, though, so we'll have to say he caught a cold or something."

Sam sighed. "Okay, so that takes care of Danny Fenton. But what about Danny Phantom?"

"Well, you didn't _completely_ blow it," Tucker said, ignoring Sam's glare at his implication. "I should still be able to get something together before the Fentons come back. Cujo should give them a pretty good chase if he's looking for Danny."

"You two try to figure something out," Jazz said. "I'm going to start making a few calls and see if anyone can come fix this wall or at least put in a support until it can be done."

Tucker got to his feet as Jazz started off to the kitchen. "We might as well get started," he said to Sam. "Unless you want to try pulling any more strings?"

"Har de har har," Sam muttered, but she followed Tucker down to the basement. "I grabbed a few things that looked like they might be useful while I was down here," she added, pointing to one corner. "They're in the pile by the Spectre Speeder."

Tucker looked at it and picked something up. "This looks like one of the rockets off Skulker's armour."

Sam shrugged. "For all we know, it is. I wouldn't put it past Danny's parents to go scavenging, if only so they know what technology the ghosts are using. What's important is whether or not you can get it to work, and fast."

Tucker nodded absently, already intent on studying the mess of metal and wires before him. Maybe if he connected that to that, used this as a platform and attached that thing there….

It should work. Probably. Hopefully. If they were lucky. They'd dealt with worse odds, anyway.

* * *

Susan Long never particularly liked it when she found out she was playing host to magical creatures. For one, she hated lying to Jonathan or having to stand back and watch her children—well, usually just Jake—being punished for something that she knew he hadn't done. For another, half the ones that came in made a mess, and she didn't always have time to clean up or bake another batch of cookies or anything like that. But with Jake's responsibilities as the American Dragon, she knew it was required on occasion, and she knew her father wouldn't have suggested Jake take anyone home with him unless it was absolutely necessary.

In all her time, however, she'd never entertained a ghost, and certainly not one like the young Danny Phantom who sat in her living room, chatting idly with her husband about life back in Amity Park.

Jake had told her the story while he did the dessert dishes and she cleaned up the kitchen. About who Danny Phantom truly was and who he was pretending to be, how Rotwood had captured him and how he had promised to take care of the ghosts Jake had had to fight at Camp Mugwomp. By then, of course, Jonathan and Haley had already taken Danny to where he was now, both happily listening to the antics of Danny's supposed parents.

It was surely strange, Susan thought, for a ghost to speak about ghost hunters with an undeniable trace of pride. For all that most of the tales included a plethora of mishaps and mistakes, antics that kept Haley giggling and Jonathan chuckling, there was a clear note of respect in Danny's voice. Though they had dedicated their lives to hunting down his kind, Jack and Maddie Fenton were, in his eyes, brilliant, intelligent people, if a bit overenthusiastic and too stubborn to see beyond their assumptions about the nature of ghosts.

"You said he'll be leaving Sunday?" Susan asked her eldest quietly.

Jake nodded. "Beats me why he said Thursday. That's just when he figures they're getting into town. He never said anything about trying to scare them out of staying or whatever, so he'll probably be here."

That was curious, too. What ghost would willingly wait around for ghost hunters and then catch a ride home? It must be simpler to fly. Perhaps it had to do with energy expulsion? It was possible that ghosts would only last so long in this dimension before they began to fall apart and fade away, unable to harness enough energy to keep their form, if they expended it foolishly. If the Fentons had a ghost portal as Danny said, they might very well be his quickest way back to it.

Perhaps it was less taxing for a phantom to act like a human boy for a week than to get to the known stable passage into his home dimension on his own.

But as far as acting went, he did it phenomenally well. Jake had said that Spud had discovered that Danny Phantom spent much of his time in their world, but the ease was of one who had lived it—

And that was it, of course. He had lived it. Quite recently, according to Jake.

"He reminds me of you," Susan said softly, glancing at Jake. She couldn't quite pinpoint why, exactly, beyond the obvious, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Danny Phantom than met the eye—just as there was more to Jake Long.

"He seems neater than me," Jake said. "I mean, Haley said he folded his suit."

Susan laughed. "He's a guest. I daresay you're tidier when you're not at home, too." She ruffled his hair. "I don't mind that he's staying here, Jake, but what are we going to do with him?"

The blank look on her son's face told her he hadn't thought that far ahead.

"You and Haley have school tomorrow," she reminded him, "and Dad and I both have work to do. If Danny is pretending to be human, someone has to take care of him."

"Can't he just go to the shop?"

Susan sighed. "I'll talk to your father, but he might have other ideas."

Jake cringed. They both knew Jonathan Long well enough to have a pretty good idea of what he thought was a brilliant plan. "He can't tag along with me tomorrow. He'd stand out like a sore thumb. Even if he didn't, Rotwood would recognize him." He glanced back at the living room. "I can vouch that the shop's not boring."

Susan snorted. "With no customers to date, you'll have a time convincing Dad that Danny would have more fun with Gramps than with someone his own age."

"But it's _school_."

"And Dad maintains that it's a privilege," Susan pointed out. "We can try, Jake, but you better warn Danny that he'll have to at least appear to go to school with you."

Jake grimaced. "What if Dad calls Rotwood? You know, since he's the principal?"

"I'll try to cut him off," Susan said. She placed a hand on her son and gently propelled him forward. "We've left them long enough. You'd better go rescue Danny. He's been doing phenomenally well so far, but we don't know how long he can keep this up. I'll finish up in here and join you shortly."

"Mom?" Jake asked, glancing back at her. "Is this one of the times you wish you'd told Dad?"

"We'll tell him," Susan said. "Just…not yet. Now's not the time."

But if she was being perfectly honest, she had no idea when the right time would arrive.

* * *

"Are you sure that's going to work?" Sam asked, eyeing Tucker's handiwork with apprehension.

"It flies," Tucker said, firing the board up and standing on it to prove his point. To his credit, he didn't manage to crash it.

He did fall off, though, as he tried to get it to slow down.

Sam heaved him up off the floor. "Maybe you should have tried to turn it into a jetpack," she said. The platform of the board was hardly longer than a foot and a half and half as wide. It didn't leave much room for error.

"It'll get you to Dora's," Tucker said. "Just try not to run into Skulker or anyone else on the way." He didn't have to add that it would probably fall apart if she pushed it too hard.

Sam scowled at him. "Just keep your Fenton Phone on. I'll call in if I run into trouble." They'd already decided that she'd head into the Ghost Zone; as Tucker had pointed out, this was her idea anyway, and she knew she had better balance than he did. Tucker would stay here with Jazz, helping pack and sneaking things that Danny might need. Not to mention pretending to _be_ Danny, if it came to it, but Sam had more faith in Tucker's ability to get the Tuck-bot to work than in his acting skills.

"Um…." Tucker raised a finger. "What do I actually do if you _do_ get stranded?"

"I don't know," Sam snapped, her anxiety getting the better of her. Danny wasn't out of the woods yet, and she wouldn't be able to really relax until he was back home. "Steal Valerie's sled. Beg Vlad. Try to ride Cujo. I don't care. If I get stuck, find a way to help." She stopped. "But only…only when things are sorted here. Make sure you've got everything Danny needs first."

Tucker raised an eyebrow. "If you got attacked by ghosts and called for help and I didn't help you, Danny would kill me."

Sam snorted. "I'm taking a few things with me. I'm not completely helpless." But Tucker was right, and they both knew it. Without Danny watching their backs, this was dangerous. They were nearly sitting ducks.

And if anyone noticed her going into the Ghost Zone alone, they'd definitely realize that something was up. The rumours that Danny might not be around would spread, and they'd…. They'd have their work cut out for them. To the point that it might not be a completely horrendous idea to warn Vlad to tip off Valerie.

They'd see how it went, though. They hadn't played all their cards yet.

"Be careful," Tucker said as Sam strapped on a backpack of supplies.

"I will be," Sam said. "And I know the way. I'll be fine." She picked up the board, readied it, and mounted. "Call me if the Fentons get back before I do."

And then she kicked off, plunging into the endless green haze of the Ghost Zone, desperately hoping this would work.

* * *

Sam wouldn't admit it later, but there had been a few close calls. She'd nearly fallen off when Johnny 13 had zipped past her on his motorbike, though thankfully if he'd realized who she was, he didn't bother to stop. She'd had to hide behind a chunk of floating rock to avoid being spotted by a few of Walker's guards. An ectopus had been getting awfully close to her once, too, but a few well-aimed blasts had sent it off. The ghost snake hadn't been as easy to lose, but she'd made it to Dora's in one piece.

Frankly, she figured she was lucky she hadn't been dealt a worse hand, considering she was a nearly-defenceless human puttering through the Ghost Zone all by her lonesome.

Sam hit the ground running, leaving the jet hoverboard thing Tucker had crafted behind. She made a beeline for Dora's castle, startling a few guards who were patrolling the grounds and making it halfway to the main doors before they had the chance to raise the alarm. But ghosts or no, she had a good head start on them.

And humans were the ghosts in the Ghost Zone. To her knowledge, Dora didn't have any special shielding up, so a bit of concentration, and she ought to be able to go right through the walls just as Danny did when he turned intangible back in their world.

Sam took a gamble and dove, knowing she'd either make her great escape or hurt herself. A lot.

She rolled through the wall easily, ending up in…. Okay, so she wasn't really sure where she was. Aragon hadn't exactly wanted to let her explore the last time she'd been here, and they had yet to take Dora up on the grand tour she'd offered them since she'd begun leading the land out of the dark ages.

"Princess Dora!" Sam hollered, not caring if she was caught now as long as she was heard. "It's Sam! I need your help!"

A few of the guards caught her arms, but she didn't struggle _too_ much until they tried to gag her and drag her away. "Don't you idiots recognize me?" Sam burst out, for she certainly recognized them. "It's _me_. Prince Aragon's attempted bride-to-be. Someone who helped bring you out of the Dark Ages?" Then, again, louder: "_Dora_!"

"What is going on out there?"

Sam smiled. She knew that voice, even if she couldn't yet see its owner. "Over here, Dora!" she called.

The ghost in question rounded the corner, flanked by yet more guards. "Sam?" Dora's surprise was written all over her face. She quickly waved for the guards holding Sam to release her. "Whyever have you come here by yourself?"

"I need your help," Sam explained. "How good are you at tracking down shapeshifters?"

Dora immediately became solemn. "Is Danny Phantom in trouble?"

"Only with his parents if we don't pull this off," Sam reasoned, not wanting to alarm the dragon ghost. "We need someone to act as his double." She paused, then took the plunge: "I need to talk to a ghost named Amorpho. Can you help me find him?"

"Of course," Dora nodded to her guards to leave them and drew Sam aside, ushering her toward the exit. "But I must admit that I do not know where to look. I have already banished that ghost from my kingdom. The havoc he wreaks…."

"Just because he wants attention? Yeah, I know. He and Danny made a deal not to bother each other, but I'm not part of that, and I'm hoping he'll bargain with me, too."

Once they were safely outside, Dora transformed and Sam scrambled onto her back. "We need to hurry," Sam said. "I've got to get back before the Fentons realize what we're up to. They're out chasing Cujo right now, but I'm not sure how long that'll last."

"Then you'd better hang on," Dora returned as she crouched down. She sprang into flight, Sam clutching her neck tightly as they headed deeper into the Ghost Zone.

* * *

Sam and Dora eventually found Amorpho hanging out as one of the black-and-white ghosts that haunted the version of Casper High where Sidney Poindexter resided. The red eyes gave him away, and Sam grabbed him and dragged him off to one side, ignoring another ghost asking her if she wanted to go get an egg cream. Whatever that was.

"Amorpho, right?" Sam asked. Without giving him a chance to answer, she continued, "Do you remember Amity Park?"

The ghost snickered. "Ah, yes. Amity Park. Home of Billy Phantom."

"Danny Phantom," Sam corrected. "Look, I know about the deal you made with Danny, but I want to make you another one. Just a temporary one."

Amorpho twisted in her grip. She lost her hold and soon found herself facing his true faceless form. "You have nothing to offer me."

Sam frowned. "You don't know that. Hear me out. What I have to say may be a better deal than hanging around here, stuck in the '50s."

"Very well," Amorpho said. "I'm listening."

"Danny's out of town," Sam said simply. "I want you to play Phantom. That means lots of attention for you."

Amorpho's form warped in front of her, settling out in the all-too-familiar guise of Amity Park's most famous ghost. "He agrees to share the spotlight?"

"This comes with conditions," Sam warned. "You must know Danny's reputation by now. He fights off other ghosts. He protects humans and Amity Park itself. He's the good guy. You need to stick by that. No causing chaos or trying to turn the town upside down. You'll get enough attention just being visible."

"And if I…stray?"

Sam narrowed her eyes. "If I'm not there to beat you back to the right path, someone else will be. If you take Danny's place for a few days, Amorpho, you'll get all the attention you want. But if you take things too far, or if you tell the other ghosts, or if you so much as hint to the humans that you aren't the real Danny Phantom…." She trailed off, letting the threat hang, unspoken. She had a few up her sleeve if he decided to try anything.

Heck, she could pretend that Jack Fenton had built a portable version of the Ecto-Stoppo-Power-ofier if she had to. She wasn't sure how long Amorpho had been in the Ghost Zone, but she figured that even if he had spent most of his time in the Real World before finding his way back here, he probably hadn't been keeping very close tabs on what the Fentons were up to. With Danny's ghost sense, he wouldn't be able to hang around Amity Park without being detected, despite the ability to become whoever he liked.

Amorpho sniffed. "The other ghosts would realize soon enough that I am not your Billy Phantom."

"_Danny_ _Phantom_," Sam ground out. "And it doesn't matter so long as you fight them off like Danny does and keep them from damaging the town and harming the people."

"But if things are too…_quiet_," Amorpho countered, "can I not shift into something and cause a bit of mischief for Phantom to fix?"

"If you think things are getting too quiet, land in the mall as Danny Phantom. I guarantee you it won't be quiet for long." Sam crossed her arms. "If you want to try anything else, you've got to clear it with me, got that?"

Amorpho stared at her for a long few seconds, Danny's face looking unusually cold and calculating. After a moment, the features dissolved into something akin to Danny's relaxed, goofy smile. It wasn't quite right, not to anyone who knew Danny well, but it would do. "Very well," Amorpho said, sticking out a hand. "You have a deal."

As Sam shook his hand, she desperately hoped she wouldn't regret this.


	10. Chapter 10

"Sorry about this," Jake muttered to Danny. It was Wednesday morning, and Jonathan Long insisted on dropping them off at school. Haley had been dropped off first, early as always, but getting a ride meant that Jake, for once, wouldn't be late.

Considering he was stuck with Danny, he'd rather be late. Rotwood's class was first.

"It could be worse, right?" Danny said, glancing out the window as they approached the front of the school.

"Doubt it," Jake returned.

"Here you go, Jakers!" Jonathan said. "You and Danny stick together like glue, and I'll see you two when you get home after school."

"Sure, Dad. Thanks," Jake said, climbing out of the car. Danny followed.

For a ghost, he wasn't as conspicuous as he could be. Without the jumpsuit thing on, he actually kind of looked like a normal teenager. If you took away the stark white hair and slight glow, at least. But even normal-looking, he was still recognizable as Danny Phantom. Rotwood would figure things out in an instant.

"How long can you go invisible for?" Jake asked.

"I'm not sure," Danny admitted. "It's not something I've actually tested myself for in terms of endurance."

Jake sighed. "Because of that camouflage thing you can do, right?"

"Sort of."

"And you're _sure_ you can't do that now?"

Danny rubbed the back of his neck in what Jake had by now realized was a nervous habit. "It wouldn't work as well here as back home," he said slowly. "I'd still stick out here."

"You want to head back to the shop? I can tell you how to get there. It's not a long flight."

Danny hesitated. "Didn't your dad phone the school or something?"

"Mom managed to get the phone from him before he said too much. She said that my cousin would be joining me sometime after my first class. They only talked to the school secretary, but Rotwood will probably find out. You're safer elsewhere."

"And you'll be in trouble if I'm not around," Danny pointed out. He flicked out of sight at that instant, there one moment and gone the next. "But I'll play it safe," Danny's voice continued, "and catch up with you after your first class."

"What are you going to do?"

"Honestly?" There was a pause. "I'm going to see if I can get Jazz Fenton out of class long enough to take a phone call. I kinda want to know what her parents are up to."

Jake chuckled. "If you don't think this Jazz will take your call, why not phone the other one?"

Danny became visible again for a moment. "Because Danny Fenton," he said, quite simply, "skips class a _lot_, and if he's there, he's probably asleep. Besides, Jazz is the more reliable Fenton kid when it comes to getting information about what her parents are up to. Danny doesn't know half the time." With a half smile, Danny vanished.

Huh. Maybe that was another reason Phantom was sore about taking the name Danny Fenton. For all that they must still be friends, Fenton sounded like a bit of a slacker, or at least someone who didn't pay a lot of attention to things going on around him.

When Jake was reporting this to Trixie and Spud, however, it became clear very quickly that Trixie, at least, didn't share his opinion. "You don't know that, Jakey," she said. "If you just look at the bare bones of it, this Fenton kid sounds like you."

"Me?" Jake said indignantly.

"Yeah, it kinda does, dude," Spud agreed. "I mean, skipping class for a dragon emergency, falling asleep because you were up all night on another dragon emergency, missing things because you're too focussed on other dragon stuff…."

Jake huffed. "Okay, fine. But at least I've got an excuse. Fenton probably doesn't."

"Maybe not," Trixie allowed as they took their seats in Rotwood's class, "but you can't rule it out."

"Yeah, he might be like me," Spud said.

"What, someone who's going to be a one-man band when he grows up?" The sarcasm in Trixie's voice was unmistakable.

Spud scoffed. "I gave that up ages ago, Trix. I'm going to be one of those people who tests out video games." He started miming playing a game for emphasis.

Trixie raised an eyebrow. "Right. If you say so, Spud. So what did you actually mean, then?"

Spud dropped his hands. "I mean someone that everyone underestimates. I looked up some more stuff about the Fentons last night. They're, like, a family of geniuses. You ever hear about the extremely rare purple back gorilla?"

"Uh, no." Jake had heard of a lot of things, but purple back gorillas weren't among them.

"Well, Danny Fenton was the one who realized that one of the last two male gorillas alive was actually a female. So, you know, they can breed the species again. For a little while."

Jake made a face. "I did not need to know that, Spud."

"Yeah, you got a point beyond the whole mating thing?" Trixie asked.

Spud shrugged. "It just sounds like one of those stories that should have a moral. You know, the not judging a book by its cover type of thing."

"You mean," Jake said, feeling a bit ashamed of himself now, "not making assumptions about this kid before I actually meet him?"

Spud blinked. "Well, I guess. I was just thinking about judging books by their covers and not getting close enough to gorillas to see what they actually were, but, yeah, that makes sense."

The three of them quieted down when Rotwood entered the room. He glared at Jake throughout most of the class, found reason to give him detention and fail his latest assignment, but otherwise couldn't do much. Ridicule, however, went a long way, and despite the fact that Rotwood had retracted the whole thing about Jake thinking he was a dragon, Jake knew it had not been forgotten.

Brad had reminded him of it yesterday morning, in fact.

And Rotwood had many reasons to be angry with him now. Jake hadn't exactly been careful when he'd been in Rotwood's to destroy any evidence he might have. He was also the reason that Rotwood's precious ghost specimen was gone, along with the cage he'd been keeping it in. Rotwood had ended up making a fool of himself in front of the media (and, presumably, his peers) again. And at least half the class knew that Rotwood had claimed to have captured a ghost, and despite the fun they'd had in sharing ghost stories, no one there had believed him.

The fact that today continued the lecture on ghosts, and, more specifically, the various types of ghosts, probably didn't help matters too much.

"Mr. Long," Rotwood called as the bell rang to signal the end of class, "wait a moment. I wish to speak with you."

Jake sighed. "Sure, Mr. Rotwood."

"_Professor _Rotwood!"

Jake ignored him and looked at Trixie and Spud. "I'll catch up with you," he said. They nodded and gave him a wave, streaming out of the room with everyone else.

Everyone except, Jake realized, Brad. Why the heck was he hanging around?

Rotwood evidently wondered the same thing, as he said, "Mr. Morton, you do not wish to be late for your next class, do you?"

"Uh, no, Mist—Professor Rotwood, sir," Brad said. Jake figured he was probably hanging around in hopes of getting some more dirt on him to spread around.

Fun.

"I wanted to talk to you about something," Brad added.

Rotwood pursed his lips. "Very well. Wait outside. I will speak with you when I am done with Mr. Long." Once Brad was out the door, Rotwood turned on Jake. "I do not like being made a fool, Mr. Long."

Jake crossed his arms. "Could've fooled me."

Rotwood clenched his fists. "I do not have time to deal with your hanky-panky. What have you done with my specimen?"

"Set him free," Jake answered casually. "You know, the usual. I expect he's back in the ghost dimension you pulled him from by now."

Rotwood narrowed his eyes. "Unlikely, Mr. Long. I have studied it far longer than you. The natural openings between their world and ours are not predictable." He straightened up. "I will find the phantom again."

"Or someone to replace him?" Jake could fill in the blanks. "Yo, Rotwood, you know none of the ghost stories you've heard in the past few days are true, right?"

"I shall be the judge of that, Mr. Long," Rotwood said stiffly. "You may go."

It wasn't as bad as Jake thought it would be. That was definitely a plus. Smirking, he left the classroom. His grin fell a bit when he saw Brad go in again, since Jake was pretty sure he knew why and definitely sure he wouldn't like the results, but he couldn't do anything to stop him.

Not without showing Brad that he really _was_ a fire-breathing dragon, anyway, and that definitely wasn't going to happen.

* * *

When Jazz felt her phone vibrate in her pocket, she immediately knew who it was. The minute she was able—that is, out of her parents' earshot—she answered it. "Danny?" she asked worriedly. "Is something wrong?"

"_I'm fine, Jazz." _The words sounded automatic, perhaps because Danny said them to her so often. _"I just wanted to know if you guys have everything under control."_

"It's all taken care of, little brother," Jazz assured him. "The Tuck-bot 9000 is our stand-in for Danny Fenton, and Sam convinced Amorpho to come back to Amity Park to pose as Phantom."

"_She _what_? Are you nuts?"_

"They'll keep him under control, Danny," Jazz said briskly. "I wouldn't have allowed it otherwise. But people are getting suspicious about Danny Phantom's absence. We had to do something."

"_But _Amorpho_? Jazz, I _told_ you how much damage he can do if he puts his mind to it! Do you know how long it's going to take me to clear that up? Do you know how long it's gonna take me to clear my name again?"_

"Would you rather we'd asked Vlad how far he was on his latest cloning project?" Jazz snapped. She instantly regretted it. "Sorry, Danny," she said, her tone much softer. "I haven't been getting much sleep lately. The stress is getting to me." Danny didn't say anything, clearly waiting for her to continue, so she said, "Sam and Tucker have ample supplies of weapons. They picked some more up while helping Mom and Dad pack. Valerie's still on patrol, too. And Amorpho agreed to fight ghosts like you do, just to keep up the pretence, but chances are that fewer will be coming through anyway once they realize you're not here."

"_So you're saying they're going to come looking for me now? Way to be the bearer of good news, Jazz. I don't even have a thermos."_

"They don't know where you are, Danny." Jazz stopped, then added, "And if worst comes to worst, I'm bringing you another thermos. We'll probably be leaving in an hour, maybe two if we can't get away when we want because Dad's trying to jam some last minute things in and Mom's trying to convince him he can't. But don't worry; I'll make absolutely sure the portal is closed before we go."

"_Oh. Right. I thought you'd be in school."_

"Not today. Look, Danny, just be careful. Hold on until I get there. I'll see you tomorrow."

"_Jazz?"_

Jazz noticed the hesitancy in her brother's voice, and she had a fairly good idea of what it meant. "It'll be all right, little brother."

"_I'm starting to think it would've been easier just to tell them," _Danny said at length. _"I mean, I know it's dangerous, but these guys have secrets, too. There's no way they'd tell. I just…. Jazz, I'm pretending to be myself, except I'm still in ghost mode. I mean, I borrowed some normal clothes, but what am I going to do if the people I'm staying with try to drag me to the convention and over to you guys and Mom and Dad see me?"_

"Give them the slip," Jazz said. "It's not that hard for you to do, and it'll be a lot more believable in a crowd. Besides, these people think you're a ghost, don't they?" She stopped, the absurdness of the statement finally striking her. After so long in Amity Park, she'd missed it, but Danny wasn't in Amity Park any longer. "Wait a minute. Danny, if these people think you're a ghost, why are they helping you? What aren't you telling me?"

"_Uh…."_

"Danny," Jazz started, keeping a warning tone in her voice, "I need to know if I'm going to help you."

"_They don't all know I'm a ghost," _Danny said slowly.

Jazz narrowed her eyes, despite being well aware of the fact that Danny wasn't there to read her facial expression. She was pretty sure it was coming through in her tone. "And the ones who do?"

"_It's not really my secret to tell, Jazz."_

Jazz pursed her lips. "You know I can keep a secret, Danny, and I wouldn't ask if this wasn't important."

There was a lengthy pause. Then, _"You, uh, remember how Dora and Aragon can transform into dragons because of their amulets?"_ Jazz didn't answer, knowing Danny already knew she did, and Danny eventually continued, _"These people don't, er, exactly need any amulets."_

Jazz blinked. Surely she hadn't heard that correctly. But then again, ghosts were real. And ghost dragons. Since some ghosts were undeniably formed as an impression of post-human (or post-animal, anyway) consciousness, logic followed that dragons should, technically, exist. Particularly if they could shift into human form as Danny was implying. But still…. "They're _dragons_?"

"_Apparently. The first one I met, Jake Long—he's only a year younger than me. But he's responsible for all magical creatures because he's the American Dragon."_

"Danny," Jazz began slowly, "do you—?"

"_I know it sounds nuts, Jazz, okay? That's the other part of the reason I didn't tell you before. That and the fact that they really need to keep it a secret, too." _There was a pause before Danny said, in a smaller voice than before, _"Don't tell Sam and Tucker unless you have to. I mean, I want to tell them, but I can't. Jake's helped me, and I already feel like I'm betraying his trust."_

"I won't," Jazz promised. "You know I won't."

What Danny had told her did explain a lot, though. It wasn't that much of a stretch to think that ghosts fell under the category of magical creatures. And if Jake Long, whoever he was, was the American Dragon, whatever that meant, well, perhaps it was his responsibility to look after anyone magical in need of help, including her little brother.

"_I'm staying at Jake's house," _Danny finally continued. _"His dad's an ordinary human, and he doesn't know about, well, anything, so Jake introduced me as Danny Fenton."_

"He _what_?" Sure, Danny had told her he was pretending to be himself, but she hadn't thought that that was what he'd meant.

"_I was telling them about Mom and Dad. You know, since they saw the cage—"_

"Who're 'they'?"

"_Jake's grandpa, to begin with, and then Jake and his two friends, Trixie and Spud, who are kind of like Sam and Tucker in that they know everything but are just normal. And Fu, I guess. He's a, er, talking dog. Magical guardian, Jake said."_

Jazz was beginning to wonder why any of this surprised her. "Let me guess," she said, thinking she had a good idea of where Danny was going with this, "you talked about the Fentons, and when Jake had to introduce you as someone other than Danny Phantom, he went with the first thing he could think of: Fenton."

"_Sorta. He said he picked it because I was obviously familiar with them and I wouldn't forget it. I mean, he's right. I won't. I just…. His sister, Haley—she's a dragon, too—told me she figures their dad will drag me along to meet the Fentons to make sure I got back to them safe and sound. I told them about the convention and said I just came to town early."_

Jazz sighed. How did Danny manage to get into these situations? She had the distinct feeling that suggesting that he just come and stay with them on Thursday night once they got into town wouldn't go over well for some reason or another. Probably, she suspected, because the people who were protecting him just thought he was an ordinary ghost…. "We'll figure this out tomorrow," she decided, "when I can meet you in person. Do you know where you're staying?"

"_Uh, I think the address is 182 Shorn Eagle Drive,"_ Danny replied. _"I saw it on the flight over."_

"That doesn't help me. I don't know where that is. New York's a big city, Danny."

"_Yeah. I've noticed that." _A pause. _"I think it's in Manhattan somewhere, but I still don't really know my way around. Look, Jake's grandpa has an electronics shop in Chinatown that doubles as their magical headquarters or whatever. It's on Canal Street. Phone me when you guys get to wherever you're staying, and try to meet me there. Say you're sight-seeing or something."_

Jazz frowned, but she didn't have any better ideas. She'd look it up once they got to the hotel. "All right, Danny. Just be careful, and I'll see you tomorrow."

"_I will be." _The exasperation in the tone was unmistakable, but Jazz knew Danny had put up with a lot worse from her. _"Bye, Jazz."_

"Bye, Danny. Be careful." Jazz hung up the phone and sat back down on her bed. She'd thought finding out that ghosts were real was contradictory enough, but now dragons and, given Danny's friend's responsibility, probably any other sort of magical creature she could name? It was a bit much to take in.

"But at least," Jazz said quietly, "I know Danny's in good hands."

* * *

Hans Rotwood finished cleaning his monocle when Brad walked into the classroom. Fitting it back in place, he asked, "Yes, Mr. Morton? What did you wish to speak about?"

For the first time since Rotwood had met the child, Brad looked uncomfortable. "You know what you were saying about ghosts, sir?" he asked. "I, well…." He trailed off. "You know that week all us eight-graders had to spend at different camps as counsellors for a bunch of other kids?"

Rotwood raised an eyebrow. "I am aware of that requirement, yes," he said.

"A bunch of us, including Jer—er, Jake Long and his friends, were assigned to Camp Mugwomp."

Ah. He'd heard of that one. He'd even gone to scout it out a few years ago, but alas, the stories of it being haunted had been false. That was, undoubtedly, why Mr. Morton was here, however. He was probably hoping for extra credit. "I have read up on the history of that camp, Mr. Morton. I know the story of Shackles Jack."

Relief, to Rotwood's surprise, flooded Brad's face. "So you know it's true, then?"

Rotwood raised both his eyebrows now. "You…_encountered_ something there, I take it?"

Brad glanced briefly at the classroom door, as if to assure himself that he'd closed it behind him. "Jake and Spud and the kids of Cabin 9 said it was just a practical joke," he confided, "but the Bradster is the king of practical jokes. That was real."

Interesting. Rotwood was well aware that that was true, but he was also fairly certain that young Mr. Morton wouldn't stake his reputation by pulling a joke like this one. "And what, may I ask, was real, Mr. Morton?"

"Shackles Jack," Brad answered. "And Peg Leg Pat, and Solitary Sam, and Chain-Gang Chuck, and—"

"Yes, yes, I know their names," Rotwood interrupted. "What did you see?"

"All of them," Brad said earnestly. "The planets lined up, I guess, just like the story says, and they came and captured me and the rest of Cabin 6. Because we were the best. We won the Mugwomp Cup. They had it with them, and they were doing something to take over our bodies. I thought…. I mean, I thought it was just Jerk Long pulling my leg, you know? Him and Cabin 9, because we'd beat them. But then…then…." Brad trailed off. "It wasn't a joke," he whispered. "They were real. I know they were. Jake said they weren't, that we'd been pranked, but I _know_ pranks, and this wasn't no prank, Mr. Rotwood."

Rotwood didn't bother correcting Brad this time. Now was not the time to try to battle to get his pupils to call him professor, let alone try to correct their atrocious grammar. After all, Brad's story, as it was, had a ring of truth to it. If Jake had encountered Shackles Jack, and if the ghost had endangered humans, even ones Jake detested as much as Mr. Morton, he would have no choice but to act. It was his duty, as it were. But in the interest of keeping his own secret safe, he would have quite happily framed it as nothing more than a practical joke.

"And what happened," Rotwood asked casually, "to the ghosts?"

Brad shifted on his feet. "I, uh, don't know. I was chained up in the cave with the rest of my cabin, and then…." He trailed off. "Then we woke up in the lake, and Jake and Trixie and Spud told us we'd fallen for a huge practical joke of theirs."

If Jake's friends were involved, it only served to confirm Rotwood's suspicion that Jake had had to 'dragon up', as he called it, to deal with a threat. Ghosts, in this case. Jake must have found some way to contain them. For all he knew, they were in the Mugwomp Cup itself. If the ghosts had been attempting a spell to overtake the bodies of innocents, they would need a vessel to contain their souls, their essence, prior to the correct timing of the transfer. If Jake had sealed them in….

"You mentioned the Mugwomp Cup," Rotwood said. "Where is it now?"

Brad shrugged. "I don't know. In the cave still, I guess. It just disappeared."

That settled it, then. The ghosts were in the trophy. Rotwood smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Morton. You've been most helpful."

"Uh, Mr. Rotwood?"

"_Professor_ Rotwood."

"Yeah. Can I, you know, get some extra credit or something for telling you two ghost stories? Seeing as, you know, I need to keep my grades up so I can stay on the football team, and—"

Oh, yes. He'd been expecting that. "I will look into your story," Rotwood said simply, "and will assign you whatever extra credit I feel is your due."

"And you won't tell anyone I said anything, will you?"

Rotwood sniffed. "Of course not." The last thing he needed was for Mr. Long to realize he knew. These ghosts might just be the ones to replace his stolen specimen, if he could locate them. If he was going to search in any caves surrounding Camp Mugwomp, he would need the element of surprise. Jake Long could not find out about his little expedition.

"Mr. Morton," Rotwood added as Brad reached the door, "if you could draw me a rough approximation of your whereabouts once the ghosts took you, it would help me to affirm your story and, perhaps, be a tad more lenient on my next examination."

Brad grinned. "The Bradster's got it covered. I'll drop it off in your office by the end of the day."

Rotwood smiled himself as Brad left. Finally, he would be able to get one up on Mr. Jake Long. With the Mugwomp Cup in hand, he would at long last be able to prove that ghosts existed. He would go out tonight, immediately after school. The minute he got the map. He would go and he would find that trophy and bring it back and have his proof that the magical world existed.

If he had more than one ghost, it would be more difficult for Mr. Long to interfere. This time, he would prevail. And there would be nothing Jake Long could do to spoil things again.

* * *

A/N: I'm sure many of you would have liked for Rotwood and Danny to cross paths, but even Danny and Jake can see that that's a disaster waiting to happen and would act accordingly to avoid it. Thanks to everyone who has been taking the time to comment on this story!


	11. Chapter 11

Things went pretty well all day, Jake figured. Danny had been welcomed by the other teachers, introduced as his visiting cousin, and allowed to pull up a chair in his classes. He got a few sidelong looks, but those were for reasons other than being suspected of being a ghost. Heck, people would've been more likely to suspect that Danny was a ghost _before_ Rotwood's lectures on ghosts, given all the stories of them walking through walls and stuff that had been passed around. As it was, people probably just thought he was a cool kid sporting a new style.

Well, he hadn't been subjected to the usual rituals an actual new kid in school had to face, so Jake figured Danny had been given a pass. He was interesting because he was new, but he wasn't interesting enough to be given anything more than a second glance from anyone important.

The four of them—Jake, Trixie, Spud, and Danny—had had a bit of time to themselves over lunch. Danny hadn't gone invisible or anything, since other kids had seen him and might be looking for him, but he had stuck to the shadows in case Rotwood came around. To Jake's surprise, Rotwood didn't even try to confront him again. It had almost—_almost_—felt like Rotwood had been avoiding him.

Jake put it down to the fact that Rotwood was almost certainly trying to come up with some way to track Danny Phantom down and was so preoccupied that, as per usual, he missed what was right under his nose.

They hadn't had a whole lot to talk about, actually, in terms of urgent stuff. Danny had reported that the Fentons were on their way to New York and Jake, in turn, had recounted what Rotwood had told him. Trixie and Spud didn't have a whole lot to offer, admittedly—they'd finished up that group project that Jake hadn't really helped on at all—and, in their free time last night, had looked up a few things about this Paranormal Studies Convention before parting ways.

Frankly, the more Jake heard about it, the less he understood why Danny even wanted to show up there. If half—less, even—of the things that people had come up with to detect ghostly activity or whatever else actually worked, Danny wouldn't be able to get ten feet before alarms started blaring.

Maybe it was different when you had the ability to go through stuff, but Jake _really_ didn't like it when everyone in the vicinity was suddenly alerted to his presence—_especially_ when he was in his dragon form.

Unless that camouflage trick that Danny refused to do here would work there, Jake didn't know why he was risking it. The whole idea of catching a ride back to Amity Park and the stable ghost portal it housed with ghost hunters still kind of boggled his mind.

Plus, there was the thing that Haley had pointed out, first to Danny and then to him: there was no way their dad wasn't going to take Danny to the convention himself to reunite him with his 'family'. For one, Jonathan Long had a good heart and a sense of duty. For another, he'd probably heard enough about Jack and Maddie Fenton that he actually wanted to meet them and would, most likely, go to the convention anyway just for that purpose, even if Danny did just go off on his own for the last couple of nights. And Jonathan would probably drag Jake and maybe even Haley along with him, on the off chance that they did meet up with Danny Fenton again.

Which was another problem in and of itself. Danny Phantom wasn't Danny Fenton, so if his dad ended up meeting the _real_ Danny Fenton….

There were so many ways that could go wrong, but with his luck, it would turn out wrong in a way he couldn't imagine right now and therefore couldn't plan a way out of ahead of time. Jake had a much better idea, now that he'd heard a few of Danny's stories, of why Phantom had not been happy to be given the pseudo-surname of Fenton. If the Fentons found out, Phantom would be paying for it. If his dad found out, _he'd_ be paying for it. And would probably never be allowed to bring home a 'friend of a friend' again.

It was in home ec that things started to get interesting, though.

It wasn't because Sun Park undoubtedly knew Danny Phantom for what he really was, even if he had been introduced as Danny Fenton. Danny hadn't been too happy about that, admittedly, but Susan Long hadn't gotten the phone away from her husband before that name had been given. Jake figured Danny'd looked resigned to it, like he'd expected this to happen anyway. Probably had. His luck didn't seem to be much better than Jake's, really. Not when it came to things like that.

Still. It didn't take a genius to figure out that something interesting—the way things had been going, that most likely meant _bad_, or at least, something with a big potential to _become_ bad—was going on when Danny, who had been pretty quiet for most of the day, suddenly stuck his hand up in class. "Can I go to the bathroom?" he'd asked the moment Sun had looked at him, before she had even given him leave to speak.

She'd looked a bit perplexed but had responded with a quiet, "Of course."

And Danny had been out of the room like a shot.

Now, Jake couldn't, for the life of him, figure out _why_ Danny would have gone off like that. He was pretty certain it wasn't for the reason Danny had given. Not because he didn't know that ghosts didn't have to run to the restroom or anything like that—he'd never looked into the subject and had absolutely no desire to even speculate about it—but because it was just so unusual. And _sudden_. Danny had been fine five minutes before.

Jake knew he had a phone, but it's not like he wouldn't have heard it even if it had been on vibrate. They'd been sitting, what, two feet apart? And Danny didn't need to make any frantic calls. As far as he knew, the Fentons were still on the road. And he'd talked to the daughter this morning, anyway. Jazz, he'd said. And it had sounded like Amity Park still had enough ghost hunters hanging around even without the Fentons or Phantom to take care of itself.

True, it might be nothing. But Jake didn't really want to take that chance. So when he asked if he could go get a drink of water, Sun had agreed, and Jake knew from the look she gave him that she knew what he was really up to. From the glances he'd seen Trixie and Spud exchange just before he headed out the door, they did, too.

That was probably just as well. If something bad was happening that Danny knew about and had just remembered or could sense or whatever it was, they might need help.

So, Jake didn't head to the nearest water fountain. He didn't even head to the bathroom. He ran outside, hoping to spot Danny or at least find a spot out of anyone's sight to transform. If this was going to be a fight or anything, he definitely wanted to be prepared.

* * *

The sudden shiver and eruption of cold that signalled Danny's ghost sense was unexpected, to say the least. It hadn't gone off in days. That didn't mean his response was any less automatic, though. He was in class, so he stuck up a hand and asked to go to the bathroom, like he always did. And, like he always did, he left the moment he got permission to go.

Danny made a beeline for the closest boy's washroom—he'd spotted it earlier—and ducked inside a stall. The bathroom had been empty when he'd gotten there—he'd checked—but he wanted to be on the safe side and not take any chances in case it didn't remain that way. Foregoing his usual cry, he transformed.

It wasn't until he was about to turn intangible and fly off through the ceiling that he realized something felt…off.

"Aw, crud," Danny muttered, realizing he'd inadvertently changed back to Danny Fenton. Maybe spending so long in his ghost form had been getting to him after all. It wasn't something he'd done before. He did know that he didn't necessarily transform back when he fell asleep or was knocked unconscious—the latter had happened often enough that he definitely did know that—but he'd never spent this much time in his ghost form. The last time he'd been human had been for those few brief moments when he'd gotten out of the Fenton Collapsible Cage.

He probably shouldn't tell Jazz about his slip unless he wanted to endure detailed questioning from her later, though he'd have to answer a bunch of questions for her anyway, since she'd think this was a perfect opportunity to check his endurance and see how remaining in ghost mode for a long time actually affected him.

It was almost like his body had gone into hibernation. Jazz would argue with that, saying _hibernation_ wasn't the right word, but it was suitable enough. His metabolism had slowed down. Sort of. It was definitely _different_ in ghost mode. He didn't need to eat as much or anything, and he had a lot more energy than he would've had in human form under the same circumstances. Though the very fact that he had so much energy would probably be why Jazz would say he couldn't describe it properly if he was trying to do it using words like 'hibernation'.

Whatever. It wasn't like he really needed to describe it, anyway. She'd figure out what he meant and put it down in proper terms. That was one thing Jazz was pretty good at. She knew what he meant even when he couldn't find a good way of saying it.

Still. Sleep in ghost form obviously didn't translate into enough or as good sleep in human form, because he suddenly felt really, really tired. His body clearly hadn't figured out a way to balance his energy yet. Maybe never doing an endurance test like this was coming back to bite him, but it wasn't like it was an easy thing to do. With ghost hunters and fans all around Amity Park, hiding as Danny Fenton was the best option he had.

Danny pushed himself off the wall of the stall—when had he sagged against it?—and steadied himself. "Goin' ghost!" he cried. Adrenaline rushed through him even before the rings finished sweeping over his body. He'd give his body time to adjust to this later. Maybe tonight if he thought he could risk it. But right now, he had a ghost to deal with.

* * *

"This isn't working out as well as you thought it would, is it?" Tucker asked as he and Sam—and, well, most the school, really, since the ghost alarm had gone off—watched as Amorpho (as Danny Phantom) faced off against Kitty and Johnny 13.

Sam slugged him.

"What was that for?" Tucker yelped, rubbing his arm.

"Looking smug," Sam ground out.

Tucker sighed. Sam wasn't in the best mood, having been up most of the night and dragged from bed by her parents extra early this morning in another failed attempt to get Sam to wear something brighter. Tucker had gotten the gist of the story out of her in Lancer's class. Amorpho kept trying to bend the rules she'd lain down. He'd encourage things, helping them to get out of hand, before morphing into Danny and putting on a show of stopping them. He'd made the papers this morning, as he'd wanted, but Sam hadn't been impressed.

Tucker was just thankful she'd let _him_ sleep, even if he was paying for it now.

"Are you here to wreak havoc upon _my_ town?" Amorpho demanded, hovering above Kitty and Johnny.

The two ghosts in question—three if you counted Shadow, but he hadn't made himself known yet—frowned. "It's not your town," Kitty retorted, arms crossed in a huff. "We're not planning on destroying anything. Johnny just agreed to take me for a little tour."

"Yeah, kid," Johnny added. "We'll stick to your rules."

"Rules?" Tucker heard Kwan whisper. "Phantom has _rules_?" From the corner of his eye, Tucker could see the jock grin. "Cool. No wonder he beats up all the other ghosts all the time."

Amorpho didn't seem impressed. "You're trespassing," he said bluntly.

Tucker glanced at Sam. "Someone's going to blow it, aren't they? Maybe we should've warned them. You know, not to give away the fact that that's not actually Danny."

Sam's frown deepened. "Shut up, Tucker," she growled. "This won't last much longer. Valerie's gone already. She'll be back here in a minute."

Amorpho held out his hands as if preparing to send off an ectoblast, which Tucker wasn't entirely sure he could do. Besides shapeshifting and the standard ghost powers of flight, invisibility, and intangibility, he had no idea what Amorpho was really capable of. And he somehow doubted Danny did, either, let alone Sam. "I would suggest," he said plainly, "that you leave."

Johnny revved his motorcycle, drowning out Paulina's adoring shouts to the ghost boy. "Get on, Kitty," he said. "We're gonna ride."

Kitty looked disgusted. "You're giving in to _him_?"

"Of course not, Kitten," Johnny protested. "I just—"

Amorpho swooped down over the motorbike, pulling up just short of hitting them. It was the equivalent of a warning shot, Tucker knew. Kitty shrieked and wheeled on Amorpho, who easily dodged her swinging handbag. Johnny ordered Shadow to attack before pulling Kitty onto his bike and making a break for it. The kids in the crowd scattered, finally listening to the teachers and getting away from the danger. Even he and Sam found cover. They both had a handful of weapons they could use, but they weren't about to use them here. They might be able to explain away having them easily enough, seeing as they were Danny's best friends, but they'd gained a skill that few other kids their age had.

Shadow lost no time in engulfing Amorpho, but the shapeshifting ghost had been around long enough to know what Danny had learned: Shadow hated light. Amorpho definitely was rustier than Danny when it came to fighting skills, but he'd caused—and evaded—enough trouble to be able to hold his own. Tucker wasn't sure if Amorpho could shoot ectoblasts, but he either did that or turned into a light bulb or some fluorescing animal, because Shadow scattered and left Phantom's form behind.

Tucker could give him that much. He was _fast_ at the shapeshifting thing when he was in full control of his powers.

"He's not holding a thermos," Tucker whispered, knowing Sam would hear him.

She did. "He's not planning on catching them," Sam informed him. "He doesn't want to take too many risks. The thermos will only be for the animalistic ghosts or the floating blobs or whatever else. Not the more advanced ghosts who could track him down and retaliate when this is over."

"Smart," Tucker agreed. Hearing jets, he glanced over his shoulder. "And here's Val, right on schedule."

"Listen up, ghost!" Valerie yelled, aiming a blaster at Amorpho. Clad in the suit Technus had given her, she wore just about as much black as red, but people still knew her as the Red Huntress. She fired off a few shots which Amorpho dodged. Johnny and Kitty took advantage of this distraction to wink into invisibility partway up the block, and Shadow followed.

It was, as far as anyone else knew, just the Red Huntress and her prey, Danny Phantom.

"To what?" Amorpho drawled. "You aren't saying anything."

Valerie growled and let loose another volley of shots. "You can't just come here and pretend to be the good guy, Phantom. I know the truth, and I'm not falling for your act. You got that?"

A smile from Amorpho. "I've got that." He raised a hand. "Bye." He turned invisible, but Valerie already had her tracker out and she took off after him, her jet sled going at what must have been close to its top speed.

"Look on the bright side," Tucker said to Sam once the coast was clear. "He didn't call himself Billy Phantom this time."

Sam just ground her teeth and said, "Let's get back to class before we get detention." Tucker took it to mean they were on duty to track Amorpho until evening and make sure he didn't screw anything else up—or to follow up with Johnny and Kitty and make sure they kept their word and didn't do anything to hurt anyone, even indirectly.

It was probably going to be a long day.

* * *

Jake spotted Danny hovering a few feet above the roof of the school. He was dressed in the same jumpsuit Jake had first seen him in, and though Jake wasn't sure how he'd pulled off that change, he was grateful; it meant fewer questions in case anyone spotted him.

Then again, even if anyone did notice, they probably wouldn't ask questions. Not unless it was Rotwood or someone like him, or perhaps 88 or 89, since those two still _tried_ to do what they'd been recruited for, despite the fact that they'd resigned from the now non-existent Huntsclan. Most people would ignore it. Stranger things had happened in the streets of New York and people hadn't even blinked an eye.

Of course, while that made him feel a bit better, it didn't explain anything. Danny was still looking all around him, and though Jake surveyed things from where he was hiding—though _hiding_ was a bit of a loose term, since he was just pressed up against the fence—he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary.

He looked back at Danny just in time to see the ghost get bowled over by a green streak. A quick glance to confirm that no one was looking later, and Jake had transformed and flown up to the top of the roof. He was ready to fight. It didn't take much to realize that Danny had been attacked. Heck, if he had to guess, he'd almost think it was another ghost. He couldn't think of anyone who knew about Danny that he didn't trust.

"Yo, Danny, you need any help?" Jake called, landing on the roof and trying to spot Danny. He hadn't gone invisible or anything, had he?

"No," Danny answered from somewhere behind him. Jake turned, following the sound of Danny's voice, and finally spotted him.

And a little green puppy.

"This is Cujo," Danny said, sitting up and pulling the tiny dog off his chest. Cujo barked happily before squirming around to lick Danny's face again. "He's not really my dog, but I've been trying to train him." He glanced at Jake. "You might want to, uh—"

"Yeah," Jake said, shifting back to his human form. "Ghost dog?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Former guard dog," Danny explained. "Used to live in Amity Park. He took a shine to me. Pretty protective, though, so I'd better introduce you as a friend. Cujo," he said as Jake sat down beside him, "this is Jake. He's a friend." To Jake, he added, "Let him sniff you. He might be a ghost, but it still works that way."

"Haley would say he's cute," Jake said, scratching the dog behind the ears.

"And you'd say?"

"He's slobbery," Jake said with a laugh. "Nah, I think he's a good little dog."

"He can also be a terrifying big dog," Danny warned him. "I'd better make sure he didn't come with a message or anything." He checked the dog's collar.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing," Danny agreed. "He must've gotten out of the Ghost Zone and come looking for me." He frowned. "I don't know how he found me, though. I came here through the Ghost Zone. There shouldn't be a trail."

"Maybe he's just got a really good sense of smell?"

Danny grinned. "Yeah. Maybe." He looked down at the puppy again. "But what am I supposed to do with him? I'm pretty sure your parents wouldn't be too happy if I brought home a green dog."

"Mom wouldn't be too happy. Dad would just ask you questions. Like how come you're in your costume again."

"Huh?" Danny glanced down. "Oh, crud," he said.

"You didn't realize it?"

"Uh…no?" Danny reached for a near-invisible zipper on the front of the suit and pulled it down. "I hope your clothes are under here or I might've lost them."

Jake snorted, not really caring that they obviously weren't as Danny zipped his suit back up. "Never mind them. I'll tell Sun you had to split. She'll understand. Go home and change into something normal again and I'll meet you at Gramps's shop."

"I thought we were supposed to head to your place after school."

Jake shrugged. "I'll phone home. It's cool. I work at the shop."

"By 'work', you mean—?"

Jake grinned. "Yeah. Dragon training or other stuff like that, usually. Though Gramps still has me mopping floors and sweeping and cleaning the toilet and stuff."

Danny smiled, but Jake could tell there was something bothering him. He waited, and Danny finally said, "Jake? Since your grandpa owns an electronics shop, are you good with them?"

"Let me guess. You don't mean 'good with them' as in rigging up a killer sound system, right?"

Danny shook his head. "Cujo's turning up kind of drove home the fact that if any of my enemies show up here, I can't get rid of them. I might be able to beat them down, but I can't catch them without a Fenton Thermos or anything like that. I usually carry one around, but I don't bother when I'm in the Ghost Zone because that's where I dump the ghosts once I catch them anyway. But if Cujo found me, the others might, too, and I want to be prepared."

Jake blinked. "You want me to build you a thermos thingy to hold ghosts?"

"Can you?"

Jake shook his head. "Definitely not my skill. Spud might be able to help you, though. He's good with that sort of thing. You know how this thermos fits together?"

"Sort of. I mean, the Fentons have an electronic copy of their blueprints on their computer system—"

"Then don't worry," Jake cut in. "Spud can hack into anything. He'll get 'em. If he can't build it off of those and what we've got, no one can." He got to his feet. "And you can just tell Dad that it's a prop for your costume or something."

Danny cracked a smile. "I'm going as Danny Phantom, the ghost hero and public enemy number one of Amity Park. If I'm going to have a prop, that's the best one to carry." He set Cujo down and got to his feet. "Go home, Cujo," he commanded. "Go home, boy. Back to the Ghost Zone."

Cujo sat at Danny's feet, tail wagging.

"He's not going to move," Jake said.

Danny sighed. He lifted one hand and let what Jake now knew to be an ectoblast form. He cradled it, letting it grow into a ball of pulsing green light. Cujo's tail wagged faster as Danny drew back his hand. "Ready, boy?" he asked. Cujo barked, and Danny released the ball of ecto-energy. "Go get it, boy! Fetch!"

Cujo was off like a shot. "Let me guess," Jake said. "Not the first time you've done it?"

"Won't be the last time, either," Danny acknowledged, "but it'll get him out of my hair for now, because he'll look around to try to find it. He normally goes back into the Ghost Zone when he can't. Sam says it's cruel, but Tuck agrees that it's really the only way."

"Your friends?" Jake guessed. Danny had mentioned a few names when pretending to be Danny Fenton, so if they were the ones who knew about his trick, it wasn't so much of a stretch to figure out that these must be the friends he'd called yesterday.

Danny cringed, realizing his mistake. "Yeah," he admitted. "Look, uh, if you do run into the Fentons, don't mention that."

"What, you've had enough close calls to last a lifetime and don't need to give them any more clues as to where you might be?"

"Something like that," Danny said vaguely. He rubbed the back of his neck. "You can keep a secret, right, Jake?" he asked.

Jake snorted. "Think of who you're talking to."

Danny gave him a sheepish smile. "Right. Sorry." He stopped. "Look," he said slowly, "it's not that I don't want to tell you. It's that I can't."

"Because you don't want to tell me."

Danny opened his mouth to argue, but after a few seconds, he closed it and shrugged. "It's more complicated than that."

"And you think my life isn't complicated? My dad doesn't know he married into a family of reptiles." Jake crossed his arms. "You can't tell me you've got something more complicated than keeping secrets from your family. _Especially_ family who just wants the best for you and keeps trying to shove his nose into your business to make sure you're behaving yourself and not doing anything he wouldn't want you to do and ends up making the things you have to do ten times harder because you can't tell him about anything and don't ever have any good excuses."

It had come out in a rush, but it was still a rash thing to say. Jake realized that the moment the words had left his mouth. He didn't think before he spoke. Gramps told him that. Fu told him that. His mom told him that. Heck, _Haley_ told him that. But it wasn't a lesson he'd learned yet. And just as he regretted saying things before, like the things he'd said about his father without realizing he'd been overheard, he regretted this.

"Sorry," Jake said, wincing a bit himself at the expression on Danny's face. "Do you even, uh, remember your family? Is that something I shouldn't ask?"

"I remember them," Danny said quietly. "And even if you don't believe me, Jake, I really do know exactly how you feel."

Wait.

"Are your parents still in Amity Park?" Danny had died there, he'd said, about a year ago. He hadn't moved on. If ghosts were common there, it wouldn't really be questionable. But from what Spud had said, no one really knew who Phantom was. If he'd lived in Amity Park before he'd died, which he must have if he haunted the place, how come no one had made the connection? It didn't sound like it was _that_ big of a town.

When Danny didn't answer, Jake was pretty sure he could take that as a 'yes'.

But Danny had also said only three humans knew about his camouflage trick. If Jake was right in assuming it was his friends, that meant his parents didn't know. So if they were still in Amity Park…. "Don't your folks know who you are?" It couldn't be that hard to figure out, could it? It's not like someone was going to change a whole lot once they died, right?

"I told you before," Danny said, staring at his feet. "Sometimes things change when they pass over."

So Danny's real parents, whoever they were, didn't know that he was the ghost protecting them from other ghosts practically every day in Amity Park. And he obviously had some reason that he didn't want to tell them. Maybe ghosts had some rules about that sort of thing? Maybe it was because of his enemies? Maybe he didn't get along with his family in the first place and that's why he didn't want to talk about them?

Jake knew he shouldn't ask, so he shut up, but he couldn't help but wonder. What he knew didn't quite make sense, but he'd definitely learned something pretty important about Danny Phantom. Even if he wasn't sure what it was or how it fit, he knew it was important. Somehow. And it, whatever it was, was tied into Danny's secret, whatever that was.

Man, Danny was right. This definitely _was_ complicated.

* * *

A/N: Well, Amity Park isn't destroyed yet, and Danny's secret is still mostly safe, so that's good, right? Anyway, many thanks to those who take the time to review!


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Thanks to the fact that it's still doing the snowing/freezing rain thing outside, and because I have an outside job and work wasn't strictly necessary for today when it's supposed to be nicer tomorrow, I found myself with more time to write. So, enjoy! (And I hope my fellow Canadians had a good Thanksgiving!)

* * *

Danny knew he probably shouldn't've phased through the roof before properly finishing his conversation with Jake, but he didn't want to finish it. Not right now. Not until he'd talked to Jazz. He just….

He felt pretty awful keeping his secret when he knew Jake's. It seemed selfish. Sure, it was for his own protection. If the Guys in White or anyone else found out, he'd probably end up in a lab somewhere. A government facility that didn't officially exist, with his luck. Even if his parents did accept him and recovered quickly enough to act, they wouldn't have the clout to get him out of something like that.

But there were probably people after Jake, too. People like Rotwood, who seemed to be after any magical creature they could get their hands on. And, Danny supposed, since there were ghost hunters, maybe there were dragon hunters, too. Slayers, wasn't it, like in fairy tales and stuff? People who would be after him, at any rate, if they could track him down and catch him.

Danny found a nice, empty janitor's closet to huddle in. He changed back to Danny Fenton and sagged against a few buckets. It wasn't comfortable, exactly, but he didn't want to move. He was just…tired. He hadn't been fighting, so it wasn't energy taken to heal his body that made him tired, or even just the energy he would normally use in a fight. It was just…. He used energy to exist. He might not have been doing anything strenuous, and he might have kept up with normal human activities like eating and sleeping since Jake had rescued him, but staying in ghost mode definitely was taking its toll.

For all that he definitely had more energy as Danny Phantom, for all that he could last longer without important things like food and water and sleep, he wasn't really a ghost. He couldn't last forever. And he'd stayed in ghost mode for the last, what, four days now? He'd thrown things out of whack. It wasn't balanced. He wasn't…healthy, almost. Too much of one thing and not enough of the other.

It made him wonder if he'd get this way if he ignored his ghost half for any length of time. He suspected, given its nature, that it would be easier to recover, but maybe it wouldn't. Maybe the two sides were the same. One tethered the other. Maybe they fed more into each other than he'd realized. Neglecting one evidently did affect the other eventually, and his brief switches to human form only made it worse now that he was planning on remaining so for a longer period of time.

He didn't really want to admit it, but the worry and guilt and everything else, including a small twinge of something awfully similar to homesickness, probably didn't help matters.

Cujo's arrival had thrown him off, though. He'd been getting too relaxed, for all that he was on edge because he didn't want someone to figure out his secret—or realize that he wasn't safely at home in Amity Park. He hadn't thought that anyone would be able to find him here. Cujo might've followed his nose, despite not having an actual trail. He seemed to be pretty good at finding him wherever he was. But if Cujo was just the first, Danny wasn't prepared to face the rest.

Sure, he could fight them off. He could beat them up if they came after him, unless Vlad turned up. But he'd have to _keep_ fighting them if he didn't have a thermos to hold them in. It would be a constant battle, not a quick fight to weaken whoever it was enough to stuff 'em in the thermos. He wouldn't be able to relax.

Jake might've said Spud could take a shot at building one, but Danny wasn't so sure. Spud hadn't really struck him as someone like Tucker, exactly. He'd seemed more like a class clown than a technogeek. That probably went back to judging books by their covers, though. Jake was definitely a better judge of Spud's abilities than he was, so he'd have to take Jake at his word.

"I shouldn't have stayed," Danny whispered to himself. "I should have just gone home the minute I could." Things would have been simpler that way.

But Jazz had told him to stay put. Despite the fact that he'd been away for basically three days before he'd finally talked to her, she'd said to stay here.

She didn't want him to waste his energy. She didn't want him to push himself further than she knew he safely could. She didn't want him toeing the line when there wasn't anyone there to help him out if things went south. She wanted him home, but she didn't want him to come when she wasn't sure he could make it safely. And even if he thought he could, she probably didn't. If she had, she would've ordered him home immediately, and Danny had long ago learned when he could win an argument with his sister. He would've lost that one.

Heck, for all he knew, Clockwork was somehow behind this and watching him right now. Jake had recently had ghost trouble, after all, and from what Danny understood, that definitely wasn't a common thing. The time ghost might not have had a hand in making sure they met up, but he could well be watching. That wouldn't help Danny at all even if he was, but still. He could imagine Clockwork in his tower, watching over any number of portals, a ghost of a smile on his face as things went 'as they should'.

Things could be a lot worse, Danny knew. As it was, he was pretty lucky. Scratch that, he was _very _lucky. Sam and Tuck had things covered in Amity Park, and Jazz was covering for him now with their parents, wherever they were. Thanks to Jake, he wasn't still in Rotwood's cage, and he had a place to stay. His secret was still intact. All things considered, he had no reason to complain.

But for some reason, he had a really bad feeling. He wasn't sure what it was, exactly, or why he had it. But it was definitely like that 'impending doom' feeling that signalled the calm before the storm. If it was right, it meant his luck was going to run out. Probably very soon.

Maybe it already had, if Cujo was the first of many ghosts to find him.

Still, Jazz would be here tomorrow. He could survive until then. She could tell him he was being silly, or she could overreact and he could see how it was probably all for nothing. But right now, he just needed to rest, spending a bit of time in human form. He would catch up with Jake again later and apologize for his hasty exit then.

* * *

To Rotwood's delight, Brad Morton had managed to slip him the map prior to the end of the school day. With no classes to teach in that last period, his detention covered by another teacher, and no pressing matters that required his attention, he'd taken off early. He'd arrived at Camp Mugwomp in good time, thankful it wasn't terribly far away and that he'd been able to more or less avoid the rush hour traffic, as much as that was possible in the city.

As it was, he was now hiking up one of the hills that surrounded the camp, noting the landmarks Brad had scrawled down on the map and using his own intuition to piece together the right place.

The camp had been a number of things over the years, but its placement as a prison was not simply because it was safely out of the way; rather, it was built here to supply workers for the mine. A mine which, though long abandoned, still had a few shafts hidden away in the hills—ones which very well might be open, had the boards that had closed them off not been replaced.

Mr. Morton's map was rough at best, but Rotwood had been in the mine shafts near the camp before. He remembered seeing a few old carts in some of the shafts and figured it would be an easy enough way for a dragon to move that many people without bringing them to wakefulness. And only one shaft would have had a clear path to the lake, one without any trees and whatnot blocking the way.

Unfortunately, from what he could see of the entrance, it had been covered by a landslide.

Although…. Rotwood peered closer at the rocks that blocked what should have been the entrance. They were too large for him to shift, even if he found something to use as a lever. But he had been looking for clues of magical creatures for many years now, and he could tell when something wasn't quite in place. These were larger rocks than the surrounding ones. There were more rocks to the right than the left, when he would have thought the opposite to be true, judging by the look of the hill and the path the slide had taken, which had been recently enough to still be visible.

The lack of smaller rocks in between the larger ones confirmed Rotwood's growing suspicion that these particular boulders had been moved and set back in place.

He had no doubt that Jake Long was behind it. If the Mugwomp Cup had been buried behind the rubble, as he'd suspected, Jake had already retrieved it. If he'd taken it, then did he still have it? Surely he wouldn't have gone to the trouble of unearthing it if he was just going to bury it somewhere else. Perhaps he was going to attempt an exorcism?

Rotwood huffed, took one last look at the map, the lake, and the pile of rocks beside him, and started back down the hill. With the resources that Mr. Long would have access to, he would have been able to perform an exorcism long before this. If that had been his intention, he would have done it and the famous camp cup would have been miraculously returned. No, Jake's plan for the trophy, if not already carried out, was quite different.

So if he were to assume that the ghosts had been captured within and were still held in the Mugwomp Cup, and if he believed that Jake had not yet done something to exorcise or otherwise release them, then it stood to reason that he still had it.

Rotwood had spent some time with the Longs. It had been enough to assure him that Jake would not have kept anything of great magical value at his home. If still in his possession, it would most likely be at the shop his grandfather ran. Rotwood hadn't been there very often, either, but it had been in that shop that Jake had shown him that blog of his and then offered, albeit in a roundabout way, to show him the Magnus Bazaar.

He'd spent less time in the shop than in Jake's home, but he'd been there long enough to realize that the electronics shop was very rarely, if ever, frequented by customers. He wasn't even certain they'd ever had a customer. It might have something to do with the nearby electronics shop that was far flashier and undoubtedly more competitive, but whether it did or not, the fact remained that the shop was still in business.

It would be a good cover for a magic shop. Perhaps not a shop, but a base, at the very least. He'd studied dragons for a very long time, and he'd spent over a year observing Jake Long. The boy worked at his grandfather's shop, he knew. Jonathan Long had told him that, proud that his son was helping out. Rotwood sincerely doubted that Jake's father knew everything that was going on. But the grandfather? That was quite a different story.

He would visit the shop, then. See if he could sniff out anything telltale, perhaps arrange to accidentally-on-purpose acquire the Mugwomp Cup if it happened to be there. Jake was not the most observant student Rotwood had ever taught, even when he was suspicious. He thought too much of himself. It would be easy enough to come up with a pretence for the visit that Jake would swallow. The grandfather, if he were present, would be harder to fool, but Rotwood was confident that the old man strove to see the best in people and might be persuaded to overlook the initial absurdness of the visit if he was given a suitable reason for it.

Rotwood sniffed. He could seek an apology from Mr. Long for the damage he'd caused, but he would be more successful in his little scouting venture if he bolstered the child's ego. Not that it needed bolstering in the slightest, but it would undoubtedly lead to Jake lowering his guard.

And if he happened by the shop when Jake was not there, well, he could surely still take a quick look around to see if he could find what he was looking for.

* * *

Jake skipped his detention.

He'd pay for it, sure. But when he found out that Rotwood was gone, he wasn't taking any chances. He'd claimed he was sick—a relapse of yesterday's illness—and promised to get a note and make up his detention when he was better. Fortunately for him, not all of the teachers in the school were out to get him like Rotwood, and a few of them had shown something similar to sympathy when he'd endured the whole 'Jake for Freak' thing. So, he'd gotten away with it.

Unfortunately for him, he'd lost track of Danny, and neither Trixie nor Spud had seen him, either. Jake had phoned home and reported that he was heading to the shop after school, and when he was asked if that was really the best place to take Danny, he'd gotten what he'd wanted: knowing that Danny hadn't gone home. He'd given a usual vague answer and gotten off the phone as quickly as possible, but a quick call ahead to Fu found the same thing.

No one had seen Danny.

"Well, he _is_ a ghost," Trixie said as they picked their way along to the shop. "I mean, if he wants to disappear, you ain't ever gonna find him."

"But I could see him," Jake pointed out. He hadn't actually known that he would be able to when he'd first tried it, back when he'd tried to spot Danny in the cage, but even though it hadn't been easy to see him, he'd definitely been there. Of course, he hadn't been watching everything that way, so he might've missed him, but….

"So maybe he tried that camouflage trick of his," Spud suggested, "and we all fell for it."

There was a beat of silence, then Trixie's reluctant agreement: "That could be why he didn't want to show us, Jakey."

Jake sighed. "Yeah. Maybe. I dunno. He just…. I thought he was going to tell me, and then he wasn't, but he might've if I'd said the right thing, but I didn't. I blew it. I'm still not any good at this magical creatures relations thing."

"You're getting better, aren't you?" Spud asked. "I mean, the last bunch of trolls only tied you up for ten minutes before you got out last time. That's an improvement."

"Besides," Trixie said hastily, after elbowing Spud in the side, "didn't you say he was worried about other ghosts finding him or something? Maybe he just went to go check things out. You know, make sure no one else turned up."

"Maybe," Jake agreed, but he wasn't really convinced. Still, Trixie's words did remind him of something else. "Hey, Spud, when you were reading about the Fentons and Amity Park and Danny Phantom and stuff, did you find anything about a Fenton Thermos?"

"Oh, yeah," Spud said. "Phantom's seen using it a lot, but it's one of the primary inventions by the Fentons for ghost catching and containment." He held up his hands, showing the size. "Lightweight, small, and easy," he said, sounding as if he were quoting a sales pitch. "We probably could've used one of them when we were dealing with Shackles Jack."

Jake raised an eyebrow. "Have the Fentons got a website or something?"

"Not them specifically," Spud said, "but there are a few sites about them and their inventions. Most sites based out of Amity Park are related to Danny Phantom, though."

"A know-thy-enemy thing? Or is it more hero worship?"

"Probably both, from what I hear about that town," Trixie said bluntly. "What's your point, Jake? You wouldn't be asking Spud this without a reason, not when you want to try to find Danny."

Man, was he that obvious? Guess that was a sign of a good friendship. "You think you could build one, Spud?"

Spud considered this for a moment. "I could try," he finally said. "If I can find one, or a good replica, or blueprints or something, it would be easy enough. But without that…." He trailed off. "You might as well use it for soup."

"Aren't these people coming to town tomorrow?" Trixie added. "I mean, Danny should be able to get what he wants from them, right? He's obviously done it before."

"That's assuming nothing bad happens before then," Jake muttered. "I s'pose you're right, Trix. But maybe keep it in mind, Spud, and give it a try. Just in case, you know?"

"Haley's rubbing off on you if you're preparing for something that might not happen," Trixie commented. Jake made a face but couldn't really deny it. He was sort of preparing. Just in case.

Because ghosts, well…. They were hard to fight. Trixie and Spud couldn't help, not necessarily. Even if these ghosts that turned up were all like Danny and normally tangible to ordinary humans, Danny had made it clear enough that it was possible for them to make themselves so they couldn't be touched. And Danny himself might fight ghosts back in Amity Park, wherever that was, but he was currently MIA, and Jake had no idea whether he was going to turn up again anytime soon.

Jake was a few feet ahead of Trixie and Spud before he realized they weren't moving anymore. He glanced back at them, the question written on his face. Trixie was the one who answered, saying, "Look, Jakey, you need to clear that noggin of yours. Spud and I will keep an eye out for Danny, and Spud can look into making that thermos thing for you. You give us a call if you find something, you hear?"

Jake smiled. "Yeah. Thanks, guys." It was good to know his friends had his back. And Trixie was right; they weren't accomplishing anything right now. He was too preoccupied to notice anything, and even if he wasn't, they could cover a lot more ground if they split up.

Besides, he had to go tell Gramps that he didn't know where Danny was, and he couldn't blame his friends for wanting to be well away from that explosion.

"Yo, G," Jake said as he headed into the electronics shop a few minutes later—flying made things a lot faster—and dropped his backpack by the door. "Can we lay off the dragon training for a day, d'you think?"

Gramps appeared from the back of the shop. He glanced at Jake and his eyes swept the room. Jake, being practiced when it came to reading his grandfather's expression, saw the slight tightening of his lips that most people would've missed. "Where is Danny?"

"That's kind of why I wanted a break from training today," Jake started hesitantly. He saw Fu trot into the room, staying by the desk in case he needed to dive for cover or make a hasty exit out the back. Jake appreciated the support, though. "He, um, split. I haven't seen him since last period."

"Jake—"

"It's not really my fault, Gramps!" Jake insisted hurriedly, wanting to explain himself before the warning in Gramps's voice escalated to a full-out explosion. "This other ghost turned up that Danny knew. A dog. Y'see, Danny split from home ec, and I followed him, and then the dog turned up, and Danny finally sent him away again, but…." Jake's words slowed and he trailed off. "Danny's got this secret," Jake said carefully, "that he doesn't want to tell us about, remember? I didn't ask, I swear, but I, uh, said something I probably shouldn't have. About his family. They're still in Amity Park, G, and they don't even know it's him. I don't get how that's possible. I mean, he can't be that different, right?"

"Not necessarily," Fu said. "Death's a funny thing. Things can get a bit jumbled up. Not everything looks the same once the soul's cut from the body. Ask Marty if you don't believe me, kid, but don't think nothing changes once someone passes over. Especially if they fought back enough to become a phantom like Danny did."

"You need to learn understanding," Gramps said. "This will be your task for today."

Jake gaped at him. "But I've got to find Danny!"

"And to do that," Gramps explained, "you must understand. If you do not, you will look but not find; you will either look not in the right place or not see what you seek." He paused. "You speak before you think, young dragon. This is not the first time you have gotten yourself into trouble. If the squirrel does not look before he jumps, he too may misjudge the distance he must go and find himself in peril."

Well, a lecture and a comparison that didn't make much sense to him was a lot better than getting shouted at in Mandarin or Cantonese—or both, more likely than not, if he'd done something particularly stupid.

"I don't even know where to start," Jake said. "Danny could be anywhere by now. I don't even know if he's still in the city."

"You must think," Gramps said, "and you will find the answer."

Gramps turned and headed back into the back of the shop, giving the clear signal that Jake was on his own. Fu, however, stayed. "Stick with the basics," he suggested. "It'll be easier."

Jake sighed. "What am I supposed to do, pretend I'm in Danny's shoes? I don't know enough about him to do that, Fu."

Fu scratched his ear. "And how much do you figure he knows about you? About this city? He's not going to leave it if he's planning on hitching a ride anywhere. If he was just going to leave, he would've done it before now."

"I didn't make him mad before now," Jake pointed out.

"Look, kid," Fu said, "what exactly went down before you lost him?"

Jake gave a half shrug. "I dunno. We were talking, that's all, and I said a few things I shouldn't've. I mean, I asked about his family, and then I realized that they couldn't know about him. So, well, I asked whether they're still in Amity Park, and he didn't say they weren't. And he'd told me earlier that only three people knew about him, or at least his secret, and I'm pretty sure it's his friends, not his family. I mean, he talks about Sam and Tucker and Jazz and Danny more than he talks about his parents."

"You listening to yourself?" Fu asked.

Jake frowned. "Yeah. Why?"

"You said you figured Danny's friends knew about him, not his parents, right?"

"Yeah. So?"

"You said three people knew about his secret. And then you named four."

Jake blinked. "You mean I have it wrong?" He thought it over and groaned. "Aw, man." Just when he'd figured things were making sense. Now he would have to try to figure out what he knew for sure and what he'd just been assuming.

"I'll make a few calls," Fu offered, "and see if anyone's spotted him, but I wouldn't hold my breath. Just go back to the beginning, Jake. It'll make things easier."

Probably would. "Thanks, Fu," Jake said. "Give me a shout if you hear anything. I'll…." He trailed off. Where was he supposed to start, at Rotwood's? He couldn't imagine Danny going back there. Maybe he should just start where he'd last seen him. That's what people usually did, right? "I'll head back to school," he decided.

With any luck, he'd find Danny in one of the places the two of them had been together. Otherwise….

Otherwise, if Danny was lost or something, flying through parts of the city he hadn't been in before, then Jake had better hope one of Fu's contacts had noticed something.


	13. Chapter 13

Danny had dozed in the janitor's closet until he heard the doorknob begin to turn. In an instant, he went invisible, and a second later, as the janitor came in, he just went intangible and let himself slip through the floor. That was easier than trying to go somewhere else at the moment.

It was dark in the basement of the school. Danny created a small ball of ectoplasm and held it aloft. It looked like he was in the boiler room. He couldn't see any cameras, but he let the ball of energy fade out, taking the light with it. The room, initially, seemed even darker than before, but that didn't bother him. It was unlikely that someone was going to find him here, and right now, he just wanted some time to himself.

He was feeling better now, energy-wise, but he just needed some time to think.

At this point, he was getting sorely tired of secrecy. It wasn't the same as back in Amity Park. There, it wasn't a complete secret, what with Sam, Tucker, and Jazz knowing. Not to mention all his enemies. But here…. He felt a lot worse keeping his secret here when he knew that Jake, who had a similar sort of secret, had shared his.

Jazz had said to wait until she got there. He could hold off for that long, couldn't he? It's not like he could go back to Jake's place as Danny Fenton in more than just name and not have to face a bunch of questions, even if it wasn't interrogation-style. But if he didn't, he might just be asking for it, come Friday.

Danny reached into the pocket of his jeans and was relieved to find his cell phone. He needed advice. He might already know what Jazz was going to say, but she'd be able to make a more informed decision than Sam or Tucker. She was a lot better at gauging people's reactions and everything.

To his relief, Jazz was free to answer the phone. _"Hello?"_

"Hey, Jazz. Look, I know what you said yesterday, but I kind of think I should tell them. At least _show_ them, even if I don't really explain it and just let them make their own assumptions. I mean, I told them I could do this camouflage trick that made it so people couldn't find me in Amity Park…."

"_Sorry, Tucker. Danny's sleeping right now. His phone must be off. I can have him call you back in an hour or so. We're going to stop for supper around then. Does that work?"_

Oh. His parents weren't wrapped up in their own little world up front right now. He must've interrupted 'family game time'. Jazz must've switched the Tuck-bot off to stop it from interfering or messing up a game he'd known from childhood—something even his parents might find odd.

"Uh, yeah, sure, Jazz. Thanks."

"_All right. I'll have him do that. But you know, Tucker, it really is up to you. No one else can make this decision for you. You just need to weigh your options. Make a list and figure out your pros and cons." _There was a pause. _"You're a smart kid," _she said quietly, _"and you've got good instincts; I've seen them. You just need to trust yourself. Go with what feels right. It doesn't matter what I think, or Sam, or Danny, or anyone else. If you want to do it, then do it, and take the consequences for what they are."_

"So you're giving me the go-ahead after what you told me last time?" Well, Jazz hadn't really said not to say a word, but she'd implied it. He'd definitely gotten the 'don't do anything rash until I get there' vibe.

A sigh. _"I just said, it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. Asking for advice isn't supposed to be asking someone to make your decision for you, Danny." _There was a very slight pause as Jazz realized her mistake, then, _"Danny knows that well. Or he should, if he'd listen to me." _Another pause. _"It's not asking for permission, either, you know."_

Danny smiled. "Yeah, I know. Thanks, Jazz."

"_Do you know what you're going to do?"_

"Call Sam and Tuck," Danny admitted, "and see how things are going back home. I just…. Jake might figure it out, I guess, and he might feel betrayed or something that I didn't tell him earlier. I feel like I'm lying every time I open my mouth. I know I do it a lot, but this feels…worse."

"_Keeping secrets like that isn't supposed to feel great," _Jazz pointed out. _"Especially not if it involves fibbing to anyone you care about or even just letting people make the wrong assumptions. But sometimes it is necessary, if only for a little while. And if you feel this badly about it, you'll have to tell them sometime."_

"Who, Mom and Dad or Jake and everyone here?"

It was a moment before Jazz answered. _"Everyone," _came the quiet response. _"Everyone who matters, at least. It doesn't sound like you've got the sort of secret that should be kept forever. Not from the people who matter, from the people you feel guilty about keeping the secret from in the first place. Just take some time to think about it first, okay? Make sure you're as certain as you're ever going to be."_

"I will," Danny promised. "Thanks, Jazz."

"_You're welcome. See you soon."_

"Bye." Danny hung up but didn't put his phone away yet. Instead, he dialled Sam and held his breath. Tucker was more likely to back him up in spilling his secret without Danny giving him all the details, but Sam had always been quick to point how dangerous it was if too many people knew. She didn't want him to tell people unless they were found to be trustworthy.

She had a point, but this was kind of a delicate situation. He was caught up in a web of secrets. He'd been happy, initially, to let the misconceptions build up, but now…. It was definitely time to start cutting through that tangle, if only because he might not be able to get out of it without someone getting hurt if he kept struggling. Him being hunted down by his various enemies, Jake and all the people who had helped him feeling betrayed, maybe even his parents finding out…. Not good.

"_What?"_ Sam snapped, sounding grumpy and irritable.

Danny winced. "Uh, hello to you, too, Sam."

A pause, then a contrite response. _"Oh, God, sorry, Danny. I thought it was Mom calling back again. She's already phoned me three times in the last twenty minutes and doesn't seem to want to take 'no' for an answer."_

Danny made what he hoped was a sympathetic sound. "And how're things going there otherwise?"

A tired sigh. _"You can probably tell it's been a long day. We checked, and your portal's still closed, but Tuck and I can't help but wonder if Vlad's letting a few through on purpose because he hasn't seen you around for a while." _A pause. "_The Box Ghost has come out a few times. Johnny and Kitty were here just after lunch, and Amorpho exchanged a few words with them before Valerie showed up. I spent Lancer's class chasing some ghost eel around until Amorpho finally showed up. He denies it, but I think he was trying to stir up his own mischief. Tucker heard a few reports of ghostly activity in the mall and checked them out. It sounds like it was Technus, but I'm not convinced. And we still haven't found Cujo. He got out yesterday, but your parents never found him."_

"I did," Danny said. "He showed up here today. I sent him off again. He didn't do any harm, and I don't think a lot of people saw him, so don't worry, Sam. It's fine."

"_But what if he's just the first?"_

"Jazz is bringing me a thermos," Danny told her, finding it strange to be repeating the very things he'd been trying to comfort himself with. "Do you think you and Tucker can hold out for a few more days?"

A faint laugh, almost sounding forced. _"We'll hold out. We always do. And Valerie's actually been pretty helpful. I'm having more trouble trying to keep Amorpho in line than the rest of the ghosts."_

"No rumblings of anything big or something like that, right?"

"_We should be okay," _Sam answered. _"We're only down a few ectoguns so far. Our supply ought to last until you guys get back, and if we get desperate, I'll ask Dora or someone for help."_

Sam, asking for help? She was off her game. Or desperate. Danny wasn't sure which possibility he liked better. Tucker was the flightier of his two best friends; Sam was more reliable when it came to certain things. She was independent, stubborn, determined to stick something out. Both were loyal, and both had been through things they shouldn't've had to go through, and both had done things for him that they probably wouldn't've done for anyone else, but Sam would grit her teeth and see something through before Tucker would. Danny didn't really blame Tucker for that. It was just the way he was, like he was afraid of hospitals. He'd go into one if he absolutely had to, but that meant he had to have no excuse not to. Sam would do something just to prove a point, whether it's something she wanted to do or not.

"_And what about you, Danny?" _Sam asked, sounding a bit more like her old self. _"How are things going for you?"_

"I'm fine," Danny replied automatically.

There was a deliberate pause, then, _"What's going on, Danny?"_

Okay, that definitely sounded more like Sam. "Nothing's going on!"

"_If I have to find out from Jazz, you're going to be in a lot of trouble when you get back here."_

Danny sighed. "Okay, okay, fine, you win. But it's nothing bad, okay? I was just…thinking."

"_About?"_

"You know. Stuff."

"_You're not thinking of telling them, are you?"_

Oh, yes. That was Sam. There was no mistaking the accusation in that voice. "Uh…."

"_Danny, you can't! What if the Guys in White ever find out? Even if they don't figure out it's _you_, if they find out Danny Phantom's only half ghost…."_

She trailed off, but Danny knew exactly what she meant. "They wouldn't tell, Sam. Don't say it. I'm not being too trusting this time, all right? They really wouldn't. They've got their own secrets. Trust me."

"_It's not you I'm worried about trusting."_

"I just think it might head off something worse," Danny admitted. "I mean, if I get dragged to meet my parents as Phantom, you know how they'll react."

"_That's not a good enough reason, Danny, and you know it. You're not just risking yourself, you know. If you don't think you're worth it, then think about Danielle. Just because she's off on her own doesn't mean she's any less your responsibility, and if people find you, they'll find her, somehow, eventually, and you can bet they'll be just as much if not more interested in her."_

Sam had a point. One he hadn't thought about. He had to concede that.

"_Just don't do anything rash."_

"I won't," Danny assured her. "I just—" He froze, hearing the door open.

"_Danny? Are you okay?"_

"I should go," Danny whispered.

"_Danny? Danny! What's wrong?"_

"Sorry, Sam," Danny said, still keeping his voice down. "Just playing it safe, like you wanted. It'll be fine."

"_Be careful," _Sam hissed in response. _"I don't…. Just get back here, okay? We need you." _And she hung up the phone before Danny could say anything else. As the lights flicked on in the room, he stuffed the phone into his pocket and went invisible.

"Hello?"

He knew that voice.

"Danny? Are you here?"

It was Jake. Coming down the stairs, from the sounds of it.

"Look, I know you're probably mad at me, but I'm sorry."

Danny slipped down behind a few boxes. Being invisible wouldn't necessarily help him. Jake had known he was in the cage, after all. Danny had chalked it up to the whole dragon thing and been grateful at the time, but he couldn't change back to Phantom when Jake was here without him noticing.

"Danny?" Another pause, then a resigned, "Guess not."

Crud. This was probably one of those now-or-never moments. Danny squeezed his eyes shut and decided to compromise. If he could. "C'mon," he whispered. "Come _on_."

He didn't know if this would work, but it was worth a shot now.

The flash of light must've caught Jake's attention, because he stopped and turned back. "Danny?" he asked uncertainly.

Danny looked cross-eyed at a few strands of white hair and then down at his red sneakers before climbing to his feet. For once, luck was on his side. He'd actually managed a partial transformation.

It probably helped that he really, really needed to try to balance his time between his ghost and human halves. This was a good compromise for that. "Hey, Jake," Danny said.

Jake blinked at him. "Whoa."

"Yeah." Danny rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, I don't know how long I can hold it for." He was assuming he could keep it up for as long as he needed to, but he didn't know that for sure.

"That's your camouflage trick?" Jake looked him up and down. "It's a heckuva lot less conspicuous than your jumpsuit thing."

"Yeah, it is," Danny agreed, though he didn't correct Jake's assumption. That…would come later. If it had to. "It's just hard to do. And I, uh, didn't really want a lot of people here to see this outfit. You know, in case anyone pieces it together."

Jake raised an eyebrow. "You really think people are going to piece it together?"

"People know my face," Danny explained. "It's not just in Amity Park. The government has a ghost hunting division, the Guys in White, and they're everywhere." He made a face. "And getting more competent, too. They're harder to give the slip every time I run into them."

"No one's going to turn you in."

"You can't guarantee that," Danny pointed out. "From what I understand, Rotwood still wants to turn _you_ in."

Jake snorted. "Not gonna happen, man. You don't wanna know how many times he's failed to catch me in the act of transforming." He gave a small shrug, then added, "Besides, any time he gets any evidence of magical creatures, I either switch it out or destroy it. It's cool. He's not hard to keep under control."

For a minute, Danny could see himself reflected in Jake. He'd had a lot more reason to dismiss the Box Ghost as a threat—even after the incident with Pandora's Box, no one around Amity Park took him seriously—but he'd still learned his lesson. "Look," he said carefully, "I know how you feel, but don't misjudge the guy. If he's incompetent, he might improve, and even if he doesn't, he might get lucky. Or mess with some stuff he shouldn't."

"It's fine," Jake repeated. "It's just Rotwood." He checked his watch. "We better head home if we want to make supper. You cool with that? I think Dad invited Gramps over, and Mom will flip if we're late."

It's just Rotwood. Like it was just the Box Ghost, before he was controlled by whatever was in Pandora's Box. Or just Skulker, before he got upgrades, or just Technus, before he updated his software, or just Ember, before people started chanting her name, or just Cujo, before he got into protective mode.

But maybe he was reading too much into things. That was normal, too. If he didn't overreact, thinking the worst and acting accordingly, Jazz or Sam or even Tucker would. Not to mention his parents. Maybe it was a Fenton trait that rubbed off on close friends.

"Yeah," Danny said, hoping this was just one of those 'thinking the worst' times. "Let's go."

* * *

It was late by the time Rotwood arrived outside the little electronics shop in Chinatown that he knew to be owned and operated by Jake Long's grandfather. The sign on the front window declared the shop to be closed, and he could see no one in the main room. Rotwood went around to the back and knocked quietly on the door. There was no answer, so he tried it.

Locked, of course. But locked doors, assuming it was an ordinary locked door, wouldn't stand up against him. He wasn't planning to _steal_ anything, per se. This was hardly even _breaking in_ if he didn't break anything in the process. He was just going to have a little look around, that's all. Just to see if Mr. Long had what he suspected he might.

He would be far less destructive here than Jake had been at _his_ house.

To Rotwood's relief, it had been rather simple to pick the lock, all things considered. He couldn't be sure that he hadn't triggered some hidden magical alarm, but he meant to be quick. For all he knew, Jake's grandfather was above the shop rather than out somewhere.

His search was mercifully short. While it was admittedly very difficult to keep on task rather than to examine all of the other interesting things in the room, Rotwood managed it. And he found the prize, the Mugwomp Camp Cup, sitting innocently on the corner of a desk.

Deciding it was far safer to examine it outside, Rotwood nabbed the trophy and made a hasty exit, though he still took care to close the door carefully behind him. He didn't give the cup more than cursory glance until he was well away from the shop but not quite home. He hadn't been tailed, as far as he could tell, so if he _had_ triggered any alarms, they either hadn't been received or he had yet to be located.

Yet another reason to begin his examination outside of the relative safety of his garage.

The cup itself was covered, its lid looking as if it had been welded on. It was dull and dented, with dirt encrusted in its lettering, but its overall integrity hadn't been compromised. At the moment, it was still sealed shut. However, Rotwood was fairly certain that applying the right extremes of temperature and pressure could get it to crack. And a crack, he was sure, was all that he would need. Though not without difficulty, he'd managed to procure a few more blood blossoms, so he would be able to contain the spirits upon their release.

The only trouble was, despite the appearance of the cup, he couldn't be _entirely_ certain that all the ghosts were still contained within. It was possible that the cup had already been cracked and that he simply could not see it, given its dirty appearance. He would need to check before calling another press conference.

Providing they would let him, after the fiasco of the last one. Perhaps it would just be better to release the ghosts and capture their appearance on film—from multiple cameras, of course; he could easily set up six—and submit those as his evidence instead. It would be more tedious, as he would be forced to endure miles of red tape and hours of 'official' bureaucracy as the authenticity of the tapes was confirmed, but that may yet be the more secure route.

Rotwood pulled his lock pick back out of his pocket and tapped the side of the cup. It gave a dull ringing sound, one which made him suspect that the metal was not as thick as it appeared to be. That meant it would be even less trouble to puncture the cup. He might even have something with him in the trunk of his car. But he didn't have the blood blossoms with him, and he only had two cameras. He would need to get more supplies.

However, it was not entirely an unwise idea to release the ghosts in an open area. With the proper supplies—blood blossoms and a way to secure the ghosts in the trophy again, albeit temporarily—he would be able to capture the ghosts on film from more angles and have a bit more leeway in case something went wrong.

The phantom had gotten away from him. He was going to take every precaution to ensure that these ghosts were unable to follow suit, but he could never quite seem to account for the actions of Mr. Long.

All things considered, it didn't take very long to get everything in order. The fresh blood blossoms, cameras, film, lights, iron and salt (in case this type of ghost _was_ susceptible), a few different tools with which to break open the Mugwomp Cup…. It was pretty simple, as far as the capture of magical creatures went; there was, after all, little specialty equipment, and the necessary things were easy to use, providing they were as effective as they were reputed to be.

Rotwood had everything set up in the park in just a little over an hour. After making sure all the cameras were recording, he began the task of breaking open the cup. He figured he could get into it without needing to bring out the torch, powered by a portable generator, but he had it with him just in case. Bludgeoning was ineffective, which he'd suspected it would be, given how well the cup had held up under what he could only assume had been a cave in. He couldn't find a good place to try to simply cut into it; not with the tools he had, at least. But since all he needed was a tiny opening, a small hole drilled into a weak spot of the metal should do the trick.

It did.

And, afterwards, Rotwood couldn't quite be sure whether or not he was grateful, for all that he had it on film.

* * *

Fu wasn't sure whether Gramps would be back from dinner at Jake's house yet, especially since it had been one he'd been essentially guilted into attending, but he almost hoped the old man was already at home above the shop and busy enough to not notice him sneaking in so early. It wasn't that early (not for Lao Shi, anyway, who was one of those 'early to bed, early to rise' types), but Fu had planned for a later night. Things had just…gone a bit south. He'd lost more than he had at the poker game, and each attempt at a pick-up in the bar had been snubbed. He wasn't particularly sure why, but he was unfortunately well aware that you won some and you lost some.

He was cutting across one of the parks when he first realized something wasn't quite right. He'd taken this shortcut before, and there had never been a light in that area off to his right. What's more, he got that sort of tingling in his front right paw that he'd had for over four hundred years now, since one of his battles with Yan Yan over his lucky coin. He never got that tingling over nothing. It meant there was a heck of a lot of magic around. Not just magical creatures, but actual magic.

When he got closer and peeked through the bushes, spotting one very human figure cowering under the gaze of six ghostly figures, he did what any self-respecting magical guardian would do: he retreated. Quickly.

He may not have met many ghosts in his lifetime, but he was pretty sure he knew who these ones were. He'd listened to Jake's story repeatedly by now, and he'd recognized Rotwood as the human. He hadn't seen the Mugwomp Cup itself, but he hadn't been looking for it, and it wasn't that far of a stretch to think that it would be there if he looked closer.

It also wasn't very far of a stretch to think that Rotwood was idiotic enough to let the ghosts out. Fu didn't have a very high opinion of him. This situation didn't improve it any. He didn't outright expose them as magical creatures, sure, but it wasn't for lack of trying. There would come a time when fixing his messes wouldn't be so easy, and Fu wasn't looking forward to it. He didn't doubt that Jake was up to the task, exactly—just that he would be caught off guard and that things would probably get worse before they got better, whenever the time came.

Still, he was as certain as he needed to be right now that things weren't looking too good. Slipping out of earshot, Fu pulled out his phone and called Jake. It took a couple of rings for him to answer, but when he did, Fu didn't waste any time. Jake had barely gotten out _"Fu? What's up?"_ before he said, "We've got a problem, kid."

Fu didn't know, at the time, how much of an understatement that would turn out to be.

* * *

A/N: And things start going wrong…. Well, it had to happen sooner or later. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to comment!


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: To clarify what I meant in the last chapter regarding a 'partial transformation' on Danny's part, picture the outfit he was in in _Micro Management _prior to his last two costume changes: Danny Fenton's sneakers and jeans, with a black and white DP T-shirt, but Phantom's white hair and green eyes. And, until he learns otherwise, this is what Jake thinks Danny means by his 'camouflage trick'. Thanks to Moki Hunter for pointing out the probable confusion!

* * *

It wasn't an explosion or a brilliant flash of light or anything like that. No _whooshing_ noise signalled their escape. They were just _there_. One minute, he was alone in the park. The next, a split second later, the moment he'd punctured the Mugwomp Cup, he'd had company.

Company he wasn't sure he wanted anymore.

"Well, look here, boys," the first ghost mused. "We're free, and it's not even sunrise."

Rotwood suppressed a whimper. This…wasn't working out like he'd imagined. The ghosts had surrounded him before he'd even had a chance to reach for the jar of blood blossoms or the containers of salt, and the iron bars were too far away to reach. He recognized Shackles Jack as the one who spoke, and it was easy enough to identify the others. Peg Leg Pat. Solitary Sam. Chain-Gang Chuck. Manacles Mike. Hook Hand Harry. All of Shackles Jack's old gang.

"Are you going to take him?" Peg Leg Pat.

Shackles Jack looked him over. "I can do better than him," he decided. "He wouldn't last long."

Rotwood wasn't sure what to think of that. He didn't know what they were talking about. He wasn't sure what selection process he'd just failed, but he was rather happy he had. If he'd been found suitable, there was no telling what would have happened to him.

Perhaps letting the ghosts out hadn't been such a good idea after all. He'd thought he'd have it in hand. He wouldn't have even considered it otherwise. But his capture of the phantom had gone so well, until Jake Long had intervened. He'd thought he could replicate it when he was prepared.

He hadn't thought he'd be surrounded and cut off from his supplies before he could blink.

If only he'd decided to risk destroying the specimens with immediate exposure to the blood blossoms, this could have ended much differently, but without any knowledge of how stable they'd be in this dimension, far from the prison that had seen them worked to death…. He hadn't been willing to gamble and end up with nothing.

It probably served him right. He knew Jake would have had a good reason for sealing the ghosts in the cup. If he hadn't been so eager, he wouldn't be in this situation.

Then again, if Jake hadn't released his first specimen, he wouldn't have needed to seek out replacements.

"But the others are gone," Solitary Sam pointed out. It was this comment that reminded Rotwood of what Mr. Morton had told him: the ghosts intended to overtake people, to inhabit the bodies of the living. Though the setting had changed, the plan evidently had not. Their little ritual, their spell or whatever it had been, was not void for having been interrupted.

He should have known better than to assume it would be.

"We'll find more bodies," Shackles Jack replied simply, "once we get rid of this one."

Rotwood squeezed his eyes shut. He really didn't like the sound of that. "I think I made a major oopsie," he whispered.

* * *

Fun family bonding time in the Long household was a great thing, Jake figured—if you were Jonathan Long. Otherwise, it was more of an embarrassment.

Especially when they had company.

"Dad," Jake said, "can we _not_ go over the childhood stories again?" He shot Haley a look that meant she'd better pipe up and support him right now or he wouldn't be doing her any favours in the future. Whenever Little Miss Perfect happened to need a favour from him.

Haley got it. "Yes," she agreed quickly, probably realizing that however many embarrassing Jake-centric stories their dad could tell, there actually wasn't an endless supply. "I'm sure we don't need to bore Danny with those."

"Oh, it's not that bad, Haley-hoo. Remember the time you—"

"It's really not the best time to reminisce, dear," Susan said, laying a hand on her husband's arm. "We do have company besides Dad."

This still didn't seem to faze Jonathan, Jake realized. Probably because Trixie and Spud had been all too eager, in their own time, to get some dirt on him. Hearing childhood stories was always great when you weren't the child they were about. He and Spud had been happy to listen to Trixie's grandmother, and he and Trix had been happy to hear the tales about little Arthur Spudinski from his mother. But it was different with close friends. They'd already been through enough together that any other stories were just for a good laugh and a few jibes.

At least Danny had the grace not to openly laugh out loud. Jake even thought he could detect a hint of a sympathetic look behind the grin at what would be, were it about someone other than him, a very funny story rather than a horrendously embarrassing one.

Even Gramps had that telltale twinkle in his eye that meant he found the stories hilarious, even though he already knew them.

If this was anything that remotely resembled what he'd have to sit through when he brought a girlfriend home to dinner, it was never going to happen.

Jake was almost happy when his phone rang. His mom shot him a look that meant she was really not happy about the interruption, even though they'd finished actually eating hours ago, but she let him go answer it anyway, which he did the minute he was safely in his room. He thought, for a moment, that it might be Trixie and Spud calling in for an update, but to his surprise, it was Fu.

"_We've got a problem, kid. Grab the old man and meet me in the park."_

Jake knew which park Fu meant—it would be the one they were almost always in—but he really didn't like his tone. It wasn't a good one. "You sure we need Gramps on this? Why don't you think I can handle it?" It would be hard enough to sneak away, let alone come up with an excuse to take Gramps with him.

"_Because experience might trump luck this time. Bring Danny, too."_

This wasn't good. "Danny? Fu, what's the problem?"

"_Rotwood. And the ghosts that you used to have in the Mugwomp Cup."_

"'Used to'? Whaddaya mean 'used to'?"

"_I mean they're out. Quit asking questions and get down here."_

"How much time have we got, Fu?"

"_You should've been here fifteen minutes ago."_

Jake grimaced. This wasn't going to be easy. He'd had enough trouble defeating these guys last time, and then he'd been able to get them into the cup because of the spell….

"Aw, man. Fu, is that spell still active? Can they take over other people's bodies? Even though—"

"_I don't know, kid, but we better not wait to find out."_

"On my way," Jake promised, hanging up the phone before running back down the stairs. He skidded to a halt in the doorway of the kitchen, smiling apologetically. "Hey, uh, Mom, Dad, I forgot that I've got to, uh—"

"Did you not close the shop before you left?" Gramps asked.

Okay, that wasn't the excuse he wanted, considering the lecture he was going to get from his dad because of it, but he'd take it. "Uh, kind of." He winced. "Spud called and apparently I left my keys with him. He'd go, but he's—"

"It is not his responsibility," Gramps said. He stood up. "Perhaps it should not be yours, either. I will go."

Susan opened her mouth before Jonathan could argue. "We'll have to do this again next week," she said quickly. "I'm sorry, Dad. Jake, you better go with him. He can set your punishment."

"I'll keep Danny entertained," Haley offered brightly, scrambling out of her chair. "May Danny and I be excused, too, Mom?"

"But—" Jake sent a desperate look at her, but she just smiled at him. Danny didn't look like he was entirely sure what was going on, though he probably had a better idea than Jonathan did.

"Of course, honey," Susan said, giving Jake a knowing look as Haley pranced out, Danny in tow. "You'd better get going," she said to him.

"And when you get back," Jonathan added, "you can finish the dishes. You're on dish duty for two weeks, Mister! On top of whatever punishment Gramps has for you."

Jake groaned but didn't argue. He just followed Gramps out of the room and started explaining the minute they were out the door. It didn't take long, since Fu hadn't had much information to give him, but they didn't lose any time getting on their way the minute Jake said they needed to get to the park.

He just hoped they'd be able to do something.

* * *

Spud was just glancing over the blueprints for that Fenton Thermos thing Jake wanted for Danny when his cell phone rang. He answered it without looking at the display and wasn't really surprised to hear that it was Jake. "What's up, Jake?" he asked.

"_How far did you get on that thermos, Spud?" _There was anxiety in Jake's voice. No doubt about that. Spud could pick that up even above the background noise. Sounded like wind. Jake might be flying.

It probably wasn't the time to make a crack about soup. "Well, I built something," Spud admitted, glancing at his handiwork. "I mean, I found the blueprints, or at least the blueprints to something similar. Have you ever heard of the Guys in White? Apparently they're a ghost-hunting division of the government that's, like, top secret. Except they've got this online database that's easier to crack than the Huntsclan's secret code, and—"

"_Great, Spud. Look, I'm a little pressed for time. Give me the CliffsNotes version?"_

"I found the blueprints to what I figured was the rip-off version," Spud explained, "and I built it, but I must've gotten something wrong, because it doesn't work." When there was longer than a beat of silence on the other end of the line, he added, "I mean, I was improvising materials, so I guess one of my substitutes couldn't hold up to the real thing."

"_It's okay. You tried. Just…. Call Trixie, and meet me at the park if you can. Bring that thermos thing you built anyway. I don't know if you guys can help, but I'm gonna need whatever I can get. Shackles Jack and his gang got out."_

"What?"

"_Fu figures Rotwood stole and broke into the Mugwomp Cup," _Jake repeated. _"Gramps and I are trying to figure out our game plan before we meet up with Fu in the park, but this ain't gonna be as easy as last time."_

Spud blinked at that, remembering how, last time, he and Trixie hadn't even been able to touch the ghosts and had still gotten walloped in return. "Last time wasn't easy." They might not even have beaten them if they hadn't gotten lucky and been able to add the last ingredient of the spell into the cup, forcing the ghosts' souls into it.

"_Exactly."_

Something told him this was going to be a long night.

"We're here for you, dude," Spud assured his friend, even though common sense told him he couldn't do anything. "I'll call Trix and we'll be there in ten, fifteen tops."

"_Thanks, man. See ya."_

The odds didn't look good. Even Spud had to admit that. If Rotwood was there, and Fu, that meant there would be three humans who couldn't do anything, a magical guardian dog who probably couldn't do much, and two dragons, who would be doing most, if not all, of the fighting, against six ghosts that he could only assume were angry and, supposing nothing had changed, bent on taking over people's bodies. And while the ghosts had whatever they could do, they only had a thermos on their side that didn't even function as a ghost-catching device like it was supposed to.

Jake was probably right. The Mugwomp Cup would've been better off left under a pile of rocks in a caved-in mine in the hillside. This is what Gramps had wanted Jake to prevent by retrieving it, and now look where they were.

Oh, well. Maybe Trixie would have a bright idea that would get them out of this.

* * *

Haley perched on the edge of Jake's bed, looking intently at Danny, who was sitting on the roll-away cot that had been found for him in the basement yesterday. He was very interesting. She'd never met any ghosts before, of course, and having heard tell of Shackles Jack and the others that Jake had faced, she hadn't really wanted to, to be perfectly honest. But Danny Phantom was different, she was sure. Somehow.

"Uh," Danny said hesitantly, "Jake didn't really not lock the shop, did he?"

"Probably not," Haley agreed. "If he had, and if he had left his keys with Spud, Spud probably would've locked it for him. Jake gets in trouble a lot, so his friends sometimes have to cover for him so he isn't always grounded whenever a dragon emergency comes up."

Danny winced. "So he, uh, has to run off often, then?"

Haley nodded solemnly. "Like he says all the time, he's the American Dragon. It's his responsibility." She pointed at Danny's clothes then, her curiosity overruling her politeness at last. "Where did those come from? They're not Jake's."

"Oh. Right." Danny rubbed the back of his neck. "They're, uh, mine?"

It came out like a question, but Haley was nearly certain it was a statement. "Then why not wear them before?"

A half-shrug and an unintelligible mumble was her response. She decided not to push it. "Jake went out with Gramps," she explained carefully, "so this is important. He might need help." More specifically, she might need to help him. It wouldn't be much help, admittedly, but anything was better than nothing when it came to Jake. Usually, at any rate. He hadn't experienced 'too much of a good thing' too often.

"And you think I should help him?" Danny asked. "I don't really have much experience fighting things besides ghosts."

"But I've got some," Haley said, "and if this is important, then Jake might need our help." Besides, she wanted more practice; though she wouldn't admit it to Jake, she knew she needed it.

"Okay," Danny said. "We can go and help if he needs us. Where's he going to be?"

"I don't know," Haley said. "I don't know what's wrong. But we can phone Fu or someone else or even just go around and check the hot spots for trouble." She made a face. "I'd rather phone. Sometimes trolls and others like to hang out in the sewers."

"What are you going to tell your parents?"

"That we're playing, maybe hide-and-go-seek, and they're not to disturb us," Haley answered. "Then we can sneak out."

"Well, okay," Danny said, getting to his feet. "But if we're going to be fighting, I should probably cha—" He broke off as his breath fogged in front of him. "Oh, crud."

"What is it?" From the look on Danny's face, it couldn't be anything good.

Then again, she hadn't thought ghosts needed to breathe. Danny was, and she wasn't sure it was just because he was a phantom. After all, if his breath had actually been visible, then he really was breathing, not just mimicking it, and there was a definite temperature change to allow for his breath to be seen. Probably cold air fogging in warm rather than the other way around, since the air still felt warm to her.

"Trouble," Danny answered grimly. "Go tell your parents something. And I don't want to take you into trouble, so—"

"You're not leaving me here!" Haley cried. "You were willing to take me two minutes ago."

"This is different," Danny argued. "I can't explain right now. I've gotta go."

"_Mom_!" Haley yelled. "Danny and I are going to play hide-and-seek. Don't bother looking for us!" She turned back to Danny when a flash of light caught her eye, and she was surprised to see him dressed in the same jumpsuit she had first seen him in. "How'd you—?"

"No time," Danny interrupted. Haley recognized the look in his eye—she'd seen it in Jake's often enough before—and grabbed hold of him before he could run off. To her surprise, she must've been right in the nick of time, because then Danny did the most ghost-like thing she'd ever seen him do: he flew through the wall.

With her in tow.

She felt sort of funny, really. Not nervous, with butterflies in her stomach, exactly, but more like she had when she'd first been learning to fly. When she'd finally managed to glide, to just hang in the air—this sort of felt like that. All light and airy and utterly thrilling.

And then they were through the wall and high above the buildings in her neighbourhood, and the strange feeling was gone.

She didn't really fancy changing while dropping through the air, but she was fairly sure she could do it.

Danny grabbed hold of her with his other hand and pulled her up towards him, letting her wrap her arms around his neck. She'd just been hanging off his arm and had to admit that, experience in flying or not, she felt safer when she wasn't dangling. "Sorry about that," he said, "but I need to see if I can spot it."

"Spot what?" she asked.

"My ghost sense went off," Danny explained. They were slowly pivoting in the air, and Danny was scanning the shadows, not looking at her. "That means there's a ghost within range."

"Well, if you put me down," Haley said reasonably, "I can dragon up and follow you."

"Oh. Right. I forgot already." Danny smiled sheepishly and flew down to drop her off on a rooftop. "Just be careful. I can't turn you intangible unless you're touching me."

Haley opened her mouth to reply but heard a shriek before she could even start. And even though she couldn't remember the last time she'd heard that particular scream, she knew who it was. "Mom!"

She had barely transformed before Danny had grabbed her and dove back through the roof, sending them down straight towards the living room. She hardly noticed the strange feeling that spread through her, the novelty of passing through what was no longer solid. She knew that was wrong, of course. She was the one who was no longer solid, not everything she was passing through. But it didn't _feel_ like that. Not really.

Danny stopped just short of the living room, sticking his head through her bedroom floor to check on things. She followed suit. For a brief, panicky second, she couldn't see anything. And then she spotted it.

The other ghost.

"You've done a remarkable job," Jonathan was saying, a grin on his face as he leaned forward to peer at the ghost. "Where do you have the projector set up, Haley-hoo?"

"Da—umph!"

"_Keep quiet_," Danny hissed, covering her mouth with his free hand. He pulled her back up through the ceiling of the living room—the floor of _her_ room—and released her. "Look, your dad doesn't know what's going on, right? So go with it. Turn back to human or whatever and go down and play your part. I'll take care of this."

"But I haven't attempted to set up a hologram in _months_," Haley protested weakly, though she obediently changed back.

"So? He still thinks it's you doing this. It's better than _my_ dad, who would immediately realize it's a ghost and go nuts trying to hunt it down!"

Haley blinked at him. "Your dad hunts ghosts?"

Danny cringed. "Never mind that. Just…go and play along, okay? Before that ghost tries anything. And maybe tell your dad you're working on a fight sequence in case things get out of hand."

"But—!"

But nothing, apparently. Danny had disappeared. And she'd thought he hadn't seemed much like a ghost.

Then again, compared to the thing downstairs, perhaps he wasn't.

Haley bit her lip. She scrambled to her feet and flew—literally—down the stairs, wings vanishing before she rounded the corner into the living room. She plastered a grin on her face that she didn't feel, ready to try to convince her father that this was, indeed, only what he thought it was (a demonstration of her brilliance) rather than what her mother thought it was (a ghost).

When she saw the look on the ghost's face, she could only hope that Danny was quick.

* * *

"You're too late, kid."

Jake stared at Fu. He and Gramps had just gotten here, with Gramps changing back and going to deal with Rotwood, which left Jake with Fu. And, apparently, the bad news. "Whaddaya mean? Where are they?"

"Everywhere," Fu explained. "They split. Scrammed. Skedaddled. They ain't here anymore. Easy pickings are gone."

"Can't you follow them?" Jake cried.

Fu snorted. "What do I look like, a bloodhound? They went that-a-way," he said, pointing in the general direction of Jake's house. "And that-a-way," he added, gesturing now in the direction of the shop, "and that-a-way."

"The school?" Jake asked, raising an eyebrow.

Fu shrugged. "My bet is that they don't know which way is best, so they split up to cover all the bases. They've been dead for a while. You can't expect them to keep up to date. But the point is, we need to divide our forces."

Jake frowned, not entirely happy with the prospect of having to fight off Shackles Jack and a few of his cronies on his own but knowing there wasn't any other way. "Okay. You and Gramps cover the way to the shop. I'll take the school, I guess. Trixie and Spud can scout out the way to my place."

"These aren't phantoms, Jake. They're not like Danny. Trixie and Spud won't be able to do anything against them."

"Spud built one of those Fenton Thermos things," Jake said, but he wasn't able to keep the uncertainty from his voice. Fu was right, after all. Trix and Spud wouldn't be able to do anything to help with these ghosts. But he was sorta hoping that, if they went to his place, Danny would still be around and would be able to help out. This was kind of what Spud had said he did back in his hometown, at least.

Besides, if nothing else, they could recruit Haley, but he really, really didn't want to do that. Not because he thought she'd show him up, since he'd already proven superior when it came to Am Drag duties and all-around dragon business, but because these guys were tricky and he didn't want her to make a misjudgement in battle that could be costly. She didn't have enough experience yet.

This might be a good way to _get_ experience, but that was beside the point.

"I will contact Sun," Gramps said as he joined them in the clearing. He was back in dragon form, which was probably the only reason he could comfortably support an unconscious Rotwood. "She will help us search for the ghosts. You can call the police, Jake, and inform them that there has been a mugging. Have Trixie and Spud stay with him."

Jake looked uncertainly at his teacher. "Is he gonna be okay?" he asked doubtfully. Rotwood certainly didn't _look_ good, at least not to his eyes. He was beaten up, bruised and bleeding, with a good crack on his head that had already turned into a pretty big goose egg. With all the scrapes and scratches on him, he looked like he'd been thrown into the bushes and dragged out a few times.

The twigs and stuff caught in his hair, along with his cracked monocle that hung by its chain, made that not an entirely unlikely possibility.

"He will recover," Gramps said firmly. Jake, who still had his cell on him, figured he should phone Spud again to get an update on how close he and Trix were to the park and tell them the plan before he phoned the police as Gramps had suggested. Gramps, meanwhile, turned to Fu and continued, "Come, Fu Dog. We must clean up Rotwood's things. You can take them back to the shop."

Jake may not have been entirely listening to the conversation between Fu and Gramps at this point, but he was surprised that Fu didn't come up with some snappy comeback. A good-natured comeback, granted, but Fu usually turned to humour at times like these. The fact that he didn't was sort of worrisome.

Actually, it _was_ worrisome. This was probably worse than Jake thought it was. Or maybe Fu thought the ghosts would get away with what they were trying, which _would_ be worse than Jake was currently thinking.

"_Hello?"_

"Hey, Spud. You and Trix are coming, right?"

"_Nearly there. Five minutes out, max. What's up?"_

"Shackles Jack and the rest of the ghosts split. I've gotta help Gramps and Sun round them up. I need you guys to babysit Rotwood. He's out, and he looks like he took a pretty good beating. Gramps told me to call the police about a mugging or something, but someone should stay with him."

"_We've got it covered, dude. We'll phone the cops when we get there. You should head out as soon as you can. Where are you leaving Rotwood?"_

"Uh…. North of that pond thing. You know where the trail winds around? He was in the clearing off there, but G brought him back out to the path. There's a bench around the bend if you want to drag him there."

"_Will do. You want me to leave this thermos somewhere you can pick it up?"_

Jake thought for a few seconds he probably couldn't spare before deciding, "Yeah, sure. I'll grab it on my way out." He couldn't go home to drop it off for Danny, the only one who might actually know how to use it if he could even make it work, without running into his parents and being unable to come up with some excuse to get rid of it, but it wouldn't do Trixie and Spud any good in the park. At this time of night, they'd be better off with a different sort of weapon than a thermos that was, at this point, only good for soup. He could hang onto it instead, maybe pass it off to Fu or Gramps or Sun or whoever was heading closer to his place. Heck, he could even drop it off near his place and phone Haley and tell her to send Danny to pick it up.

He'd come up with something.

He just couldn't help _really _wishing he'd left the Mugwomp Cup buried under all that rock and rubble in the country now.


	15. Chapter 15

It was at times like these that Susan Long dearly wished she'd told her husband her family secret.

Now, because she hadn't, she had to sit there and watch as Jonathan reached the happy conclusion that their brilliant daughter, whom she should have sent to bed over an hour ago, had somehow managed to devise a beautiful, glitch-free hologram. She had to watch as her daughter ran in, trying to hide the panic she was feeling behind a bright grin. She had to watch as the ghost—for it was a ghost, though clearly not a phantom like their current houseguest—leered back at them. As it sized them up. Eyed her husband like he was a piece of meat.

Susan might not possess the powers her father and children did, that the rest of her family did, but she had still been required to learn about magical creatures. She knew about them in a more diplomatic sense than others exposed to the magical world might. She'd been taught about them as if she would share the responsibilities of all dragons, even though she and her father had known that would never be the case once her powers failed to develop. She knew traditions and societal morals, customs and niceties, politics and socioeconomics, even the many quirks that set apart different races of various species. She'd been taught to better understand the world of which she was part.

But ghosts…. She didn't know much about ghosts, all things considered. But she knew enough to understand the danger they were in.

She knew enough to worry.

"Jonathan, honey, Haley should really get to bed. We shouldn't encourage her," Susan said quietly. "Why don't you go get her some water and I'll help her clean up in here?"

For a minute, Jonathan looked torn. He knew the house rules, knew Haley's bedtime on a school night as well as she did, but she could see he was bursting with pride at his daughter's apparent accomplishment. He wanted to praise her, not scold her.

The ghost spoke first.

Well, not spoke, exactly. It laughed. A deep, haunting laugh that sent chills running down her spine. This ghost was dangerous.

"Oh, you've got a soundtrack!" Jonathan said, his smile growing even wider. "You have it timed pretty well, Haley-hoo. But you're a teeny bit out of sync there. I could still hear the laugh after its mouth closed."

Haley gave a nervous little titter. "It's a, uh, work in progress," she said quickly. "I just wanted to show you before bed. I was trying to, um, work on a fight scene, but I'm not sure—"

"I think you'll do," the ghost announced, stepping—well, floating—forward.

"That one was good," Jonathan said, ignoring Susan as she tugged on his arm, trying to get him to move. "Just check the first one, Ha—"

Haley's shriek of "_Dad_!" came out the same time she yelled, "_Jonathan_!" The ghost, whoever it was, had lunged toward her husband. It reached out for him, searching fingers stretching past its old-fashioned, three-cornered hat as it flew across the room and tried to grasp at Jonathan.

She must have blinked, for the ghost was gone.

"Dad?" Haley asked uncertainly.

For a minute, Jonathan didn't move, didn't answer their daughter. But the goofy smile of his that she so loved had vanished, and in its place was an unfamiliar sneer. "Name's Sam," he said, making it clear that her dear husband was nothing more than the ghost's mouthpiece, that he was overtaken. "Solitary Sam."

"So you came on your own, then, huh?" The voice came from behind them, and Susan turned round to see Danny Phantom floating there, just below the ceiling, arms crossed. "That wasn't very smart, but I'm not gonna complain."

Jonathan—Sam—was standing now. He couldn't quite hide the surprise on his face.

Danny floated closer. "I'm Danny Phantom," he said, seeing Sam open his mouth. "I'm a friend of Jake Long's. You probably remember him."

"That was a minor setback," Sam said, "but we can improvise."

Danny snorted. "Right. So what's the plan, then? Take over people's bodies, and, what, try to take over the world?"

"We—"

"Oh, so it's 'we' now, is it? I thought you were a loner. Get it? A loner? Alone? Because you're _Solitary_ Sam?" Solitary Sam's expression didn't change, so Danny uncrossed his arms, shrugged, and grinned. "Cut the banter, then. Check. We'll stick to the fighting." He flew at Sam, hands glowing slightly with an unnatural green energy, and rammed straight through Jonathan's body.

"Okay, that was weird," Danny said, righting himself in the air and rubbing his head. Solitary Sam turned round to face him. "I thought you were just overshadowing him."

"The spell we used is more binding than those simple tricks," Sam said.

"You're from Camp Mugwomp," Haley said suddenly. "That's why Jake was called off. You and Shackles Jack and everyone else got out."

"Careful, Haley," Susan warned, keeping her tone quiet. She didn't know if she could do anything to help, but she knew anger would make the situation escalate.

But it was hard to keep control herself when her husband had been overtaken by a ghost.

Danny stared at Sam for a beat. "Right," he said slowly. "I can't just push you out. Okay. Fine. But we're taking this elsewhere." He made a grab for Sam's hand before the ghost could make a getaway. They hung there for a moment, the additional weight seeming to be little, if any, strain on Danny as he dug in his pocket and drew out a cell phone. He tossed it to Susan. "Call Jazz Fenton," he said. "Find out when they're going to be arriving, if she knows. I'm going to need some help with this." And then, taking Sam with him, he flew through the wall.

Susan stared after him for a moment before flipping open the cell phone. As she turned it on, Haley asked timidly, "Do you know what he's going to do?"

Susan shook her head. "No. You probably know more about him than I do, honey." She sighed. "I hate to ask you this on a school night, but you'd better go help your brother. And maybe... Don't tell him what happened, Haley. Not yet. But tell Gramps if you see him. He might know what to do."

Haley nodded. "Okay, Mom," she whispered.

"Dad will be all right," Susan assured her. "I promise."

She only hoped she could keep it.

* * *

Sleeping in the Fenton Family Ghost Assault Vehicle was not something Jazz ever enjoyed doing.

Attempting to sleep in it while her father was driving like the madman he was, eager to get the New York and the Paranormal Studies Convention it hosted as soon as possible, was close to impossible.

Fenton Plugs could block out the noise. Fenton Masks could block out the light. But nothing could get her to ignore the wild swaying of the vehicle as it careened down the highway at who knew how much over the speed limit.

How Jack Fenton still had his driver's license, Jazz figured even she would never know.

It didn't help that she was still worried about Danny. She'd phoned him over supper, but it had immediately connected to his voicemail, which told her that he'd turned his phone off. She also hoped it meant he'd made up his mind. She wasn't terribly happy about Danny telling people his secret, but she trusted his judgement, and after what he had told her about the people he was with, she knew it would be all right. No one would turn him in, at any rate.

But he was her little brother. She couldn't _not_ worry about him, especially when she hadn't seen him for days and he was all alone in New York, of all places. The situation could be much worse; she knew that. Danny had found people who were helping him, so he wasn't truly on his own, and his secret wasn't in danger. She was covering for him here, and Sam and Tucker had Amorpho covering for him back in Amity Park. She wondered, briefly, whether she should ring them and see how things were going, but she didn't want to ask. She was quite certain they'd have their hands full even if things were going well.

Jazz sighed and shifted in her seat again. She removed the Fenton Mask to check the time. Her watch read 10:24. Why they couldn't just spend the night in a motel and break up the drive was beyond her. Jack had taken the wheel nearly four hours ago, and she hadn't slept a wink. Maddie didn't seem to have a problem, resting up so she could take her turn driving after midnight, and no one seemed to think Danny had any trouble sleeping, either, but Jazz was exhausted and wide awake.

Even supper had worn her out. She'd spent the entirety of it picking at her food while slipping things off Danny's plate and onto Jack's. As far as she could tell, no one had noticed. She was just happy she'd been able to pretend Danny was off in the washroom when it came time to order and had been able to quickly chirp in that he'd eat the same thing as their father.

She'd gotten through it all with only one concerned look from their mother, but Jazz had played her cards right. As far as she could tell, Maddie had already dismissed it. Danny wasn't a fan of long car trips at the best of times, and Jazz had worked that to her advantage. Besides, the number of stops they'd taken en route to look for fudge at Jack's insistence, and the number of times they'd been successful, meant it was easy enough to pretend that some of that sugar had spoiled their appetites for dinner.

Jazz reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. At this rate, they'd arrive before noon tomorrow, assuming they didn't get completely turned around anywhere along the way—another thing she couldn't rule out, whether her dad was driving or navigating. She should probably warn Danny. Knowing him, he wouldn't be asleep yet, anyway. Then again, with no ghosts to chase, perhaps he was, for once. She knew he needed it.

Her phone, however, vibrated in her hand, and the caller ID told her the call was from Danny. She answered it immediately. "Hello?"

"_Hello," _said the voice on the other side of the line, one which definitely did not belong to her little brother. _"Is this Jazz Fenton?"_

Jazz glanced toward the front seat. Maddie was still asleep, and she could tell Jack was preoccupied, but she kept her voice low anyway. "Yes. May I ask who is calling?"

"_Susan Long. I'm a friend of Danny Phantom's. I'm calling on his behalf. He wanted to know if you knew when you would be arriving here tomorrow."_

A horribly familiar feeling of dread blossomed in Jazz's stomach. "What happened?"

There was a pause. _"Some ghosts turned up," _came the eventual response. _"Danny went to help fight them off."_

"That can't be it," Jazz said immediately. "He does that all the time."

A tired sigh. _"I suppose, since you're his friend, it's safe to tell you. One of the ghosts overtook my husband."_

"Phantom can knock out a ghost that's overshadowing someone," Jazz pointed out. "People can even do it sometimes, if they've a strong enough will and are skilled at it."

"_He tried," _Susan explained. _"It didn't work. I think he was planning on trying something else, but he's told us about your parents' inventions, so I expect he's hoping to get access to something you might have."_

Something more than a thermos, from the sounds of it. "You can tell him we've packed one of everything," Jazz said. "And we aren't stopping for the night, so we should be there tomorrow morning. Just after noon at the latest, I expect. Probably earlier." She bit her lip, then ventured, "If Phantom's told you about us, then how much has he told you about himself?"

"_Only a little, I think," _Susan said softly. _"I know who he is and how he came here, what he does and what he's waiting for, but I probably know more about your brother than I do about him."_

He hadn't told them yet, Jazz realized. She wondered if he still intended to.

"_Perhaps you should warn him," _Susan suggested. _"It was my son's idea, not Danny's, but Jake introduced him as Danny Fenton. My husband…doesn't know. I'm sure you've spent enough time with Danny to know that he can pass very well as a human, and Jonathan isn't entirely aware of…the existence of ghosts, I suppose I should say."_

Danny was right; these people were careful with their secret. "I understand," Jazz assured her. "And I'll make sure Danny knows. Just…. Phantom can be forgetful. I've spoken with him since he arrived there, and I know he was captured before Jake helped him escape. Maybe, next time you see him, remind him that New York isn't entirely devoid of FentonWorks inventions. I know Mom sent a few things off to a Mr. Hans Rotwood. If Phantom can get them, he can use them."

"_I'll let him know," _Susan finally said. _"Thank you."_

Jazz smiled. "You're welcome." She hesitated, then added, "Keep in touch. I may not be the best ghost hunter in my family, but I'm no stranger to it. I can help when we get there." She received assurances from Susan that they would keep in contact, and Jazz promised to phone Danny the minute they arrived.

So a few ghosts had found Danny. Jazz supposed she shouldn't be surprised. She'd been expecting it to happen. Then again, with Danny unable to throw out an overshadowing ghost, perhaps it wasn't one of the ones they knew. Perhaps the ghosts had found him, as opposed to the other way around. She knew her little brother. He'd still fight for all he was worth if the ghosts in question were threatening. She was proud of him for that.

But now she just couldn't help but be worried sick. "Be careful, Danny," Jazz whispered. "Just…be careful."

* * *

The last ghosts Sun Park had encountered had been tied to a cursed object. Once she'd realized it, dealing with them had been a relatively simple matter. Well, perhaps _simple_ wasn't quite the right word—things never were very simple when dealing with curses—but she'd known the course of action that had been necessary to take and had taken it.

Now….

She'd been scouting the neighbourhoods in this general direction for an hour, and she'd seen little more than a leprechaun and a troll.

She'd spoken with both Jake and Lao Shi. Even Haley, according to Lao Shi, had come to help them. The phantom they'd befriended, Danny, was also helping, but as far as she knew, the only ghost that had been located was the one that had possessed Jonathan Long.

She landed on the steps of Susan Long's house and changed back to her human form before knocking on the door. It opened almost immediately, and she was met with Susan's worried face. "Do you have any news?" she asked, stepping back to allow Sun to enter.

Sun shook her head. "No. I'm sorry. The last time I spoke to anyone, no one had found any of them."

"Even Danny?" Susan asked.

"I'm afraid I don't know," Sun admitted. "We don't know where he is, and he hasn't contacted anyone."

Susan glanced over her shoulder before leading Sun into the living room. "He gave me his cell phone," she said. "I don't know why he has one, but I've got it now. I phoned Jazz Fenton at his request. Someone's filled you in, haven't they?"

"Your father," Sun confirmed.

Susan nodded. "Good. Look, I don't know how much this will help, but Jazz told me that Mr. Rotwood had ordered a few things from her parents. He'll be at the hospital by now, I expect, getting checked over. I spoke with Trixie on the phone. Jake had left her and Spud in charge of taking care of him, but I sent them to check his place over after speaking with Jazz. He might have overlooked something that will help them fight these ghosts. I told them to drop off anything they find at Dad's shop."

Sun reached for Susan's hand. "Jonathan will be all right," she said.

Susan glanced away. "I should have told him. This wouldn't have happened if he'd known. He would've been prepared."

"Don't blame yourself," Sun said firmly. "Don't wonder about what might have been. You don't know how it would have turned out. It might have been the same. It might have been worse."

"It might have been better."

"But you don't know that," Sun reiterated. She stood. "I'll make you a cup of tea. This will be a long night for you."

"I don't…." Susan broke off. "Yes. Thank you. I keep it in the cupboard above the stove. The kettle's on the counter. Cups are in the cupboard left of the sink. Are you going to stay for a while?"

"I shouldn't," Sun said. "I just wanted to make sure you were coping. You're strong, Susan, and your family has been through a lot. I wanted you to know that you will survive this as well."

Susan gave her a small smile. "Thank you."

Sun returned her smile, nodded in acknowledgement, and went through to the kitchen, hoping that the others were able to keep things well in hand.

* * *

Trixie was fiddling with the lock on the back door of Gramps's shop when the door swung open. It was Fu Dog. "You guys find anything?" he asked.

"Just this," Trixie said, holding up something that resembled a cross between a handgun and a cordless electric drill.

"That green F on the side means it's a FentonWorks product," Spud added. "We tried it. It shoots out nets, and you can either reel them back in or release them. Rotwood must've forgotten that he had it or something." He, too, held up a hand and added, "This is the thermos I built, but it doesn't work." Jake had stopped by to get it but when Trixie had pointed out they could swing by the shop after dealing with Rotwood, he'd agreed that they might as well keep it. After all, as useful as it was now, it would be more of a liability to Jake than an asset. He didn't exactly have pockets when he was in his dragon form.

"Well, if Danny ever shows up, maybe he can figure out what you did wrong," Fu said. "In the meantime, take a look at the cage in the corner. See if you can get it set up again. I'm still looking for some sort of counter-spell."

Trixie glanced at the cage and then at the pile of books on the table and grimaced. "I guess I should help you," she said, though she wasn't happy about the idea. "Spud can probably handle the cage by himself."

Fu must've been able to read the expression of distaste on her face. "You might as well start checking in with people, seeing if anyone found anything."

Trixie gave a relieved grin and immediately pulled out her phone. She tried Jake first, since she knew his number, followed by Haley, and then Gramps and Sun. None of them, she soon found, had had any luck. No ghosts in sight.

No phantoms, either. Danny had, as far as they could tell, disappeared.

That would probably be a lot more surprising if she didn't know he could do that normally.

"I got nothing," she said once she'd finished. Spud had assembled the cage by then, seeming fascinated by it. She didn't really understand a whole lot when it came to that sort of thing. It just looked like metals bars to her. Nothing special.

Then Spud hit a button, or a couple buttons, and everything flared a bright, glowing green.

So, maybe it was something special after all.

The green glow died away after a few seconds, but Trixie had little doubt that that was how it was supposed to look. "It not charged up or something?" she asked.

"It looks like it uses this sort of self-generating energy," Spud said, looking over at her. "It can hold a charge and keep the power going if I force it to, but without that energy source, it would die, so it shuts down to save power."

"Right." Trixie put her hands on her hips. "And how many self-generating energy sources can you name?"

"How about ectoplasm?"

Trixie—and Spud and Fu, she noticed—whirled, seeing Danny Phantom emerge from the wall by the bookcase and almost immediately hit the floor. He looked tired and a bit worse for the wear. Okay, so that was a bit of an understatement. But there wasn't any way someone could mistake him for perky. "It's not entirely self-generating," he added, "but it's close enough." He waved a hand behind him. "I've got all the ones I could find," he said. "Five. They're outside." Another wave in the direction of the cage. "Get that out there, quick. I can't do this for very long."

"Do what?" Trixie asked, but Danny suddenly vanished. She glanced at Fu. "That supposed to be normal, you figure?"

"Probably not," Fu said, leaving his books behind and heading to the door. "You guys grab the cage."

Trixie grabbed one end of the cage and she and Spud manhandled the thing outside. It wasn't that heavy, really, but it was kind of awkward. It took them a few long seconds to get it out the door, and when they did, they saw something she really hadn't expected to see. Then again, she was starting to think she should stop expecting things in the first place. Since she'd found out about Jake, she'd seen a whole lot of things that she never would've expected to see. Still, she didn't know what to make of the scene before her.

Danny was easy enough to pick out. She recognized Jake's dad. The other four figures were definitely some ghosts from Shackles Jack's gang. But Danny had his hands out in front of him, looking like he was straining to hold up a wall (well, dome), not unlike the Fenton cage in colour, that was containing all the other ghosts. They were beating against it for all they were worth, but it still held. Jonathan Long was lying slumped off to one side, a nasty bump on one side of his head.

And was that sweat beading down Danny's face? Weird. Another thing to add to the list of something she never would've thought a ghost could do, once she'd actually realized they were real.

"You've got a net gun?" Danny asked, eyes widening as he spotted what she'd placed on top of the cage. He looked relieved. "Great. You aim it, I'll drop the shield, and you shoot."

Trixie picked it up. "I don't know if I can—whoa!" Danny had let the shield drop, as he'd said, and she instinctively ducked as the ghosts headed for her. Blindly, she shot off the gun.

She only got one.

"Oops," she said.

Danny was panting now but didn't seem as concerned as she'd expected. He waved for the gun, which she gave him, and he quickly dispatched the captured ghost into the cage. It powered up instantly, flaring a bright green. Danny flinched away, knocking Spud, who hadn't jumped out of the way quickly enough.

Danny picked up the thermos Spud had built, which had been dropped in the confusion. "Is this a Fenton Thermos?" he asked.

"It's based on a Fenton Thermos," Spud said. "I built it."

Danny gave it a closer look. "It has a picture of a potato on the side."

Trixie sighed. "It's for Mega Spudman. Don't ask. Just take the gun thing and go get the rest of those guys if you can. The thermos doesn't work anyway."

"She's right," Spud admitted, climbing to his feet.

"Might just not be primed," Danny said. Tucking the net gun under one arm, he held the thermos in both hands, and very shortly the thermos began to glow, light seeping from Danny's hands into its metal casing. When the glow entirely shifted from Danny to the thermos, light spilled from its mouth, and Danny grinned. He seemed to have gotten his second wind—or whatever the equivalent was for a ghost. "I'll be back soon," he said. "Those guys won't have gotten far."

Danny took off, thermos in hand, leaving the net gun behind. Trixie picked it up from where he'd dropped it. "How long do you think it'll take him?" she asked.

Spud shrugged. "Depends on how much strength he has left and how much Shackles Jack's gang has, I guess." He bent down to examine the ghost they'd captured in the cage. "Peg Leg Pat," he said.

The ghost in question scowled at him. "You and your friend won't stop us this time," he vowed. "The plan's already in action."

"What plan?" Trixie asked. She followed Pat's gaze to the limp form of Jake's dad and remembered what Mrs. Long had told them when they'd talked to her: it was Solitary Sam.

And Danny hadn't been able to get him out of Jonathan like he'd clearly thought he could.

And Shackles Jack hadn't been among the ghosts Danny had managed to round up. He'd only tracked down five. The whole gang, except for the ringleader.

"Oh," she said, very softly.

"Ignore him," Fu ordered. "Help me with Jonathan. We need to secure him. Maybe use the net Danny left behind. I don't know how he knocked him out, but I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth."

Trixie had done a lot of crazy things since she'd started helping Jake out with the whole dragon business thing, but tying up his dad with a ghost-proof net and securing it to a cage that held another ghost just about took the cake. Fenton inventions, it seemed, worked—and worked well. Danny probably had good reason to be wary. But he used them so well; he'd even managed to get the cage to adjust automatically to fit the ghost they'd captured.

Well, _he'd_ captured.

Why'd a ghost hunt down other ghosts, anyway? It wasn't like there weren't already ghost hunters back in Amity Park. And the Fentons obviously knew their stuff if they could invent things that worked so well. Yeah, she got that he was good, and he was doing a good thing by catching all the bad ghosts, but she didn't know why he was asking for trouble like that when other people were doing the same thing. It wasn't like Jake. It wasn't automatically Danny's responsibility to stop all the other ghosts.

Was it?

They hadn't really asked. They'd just taken it for granted that that's what he did. Given what Jake had to do, it hadn't seemed too much out of the ordinary. But seeing Danny do it, actually hunt down and catch ghosts, drove the point home. It wasn't even like the equivalent of a human policeman, really. He was more like a vigilante or something.

But none of that quite meshed with what Rotwood had been spouting for the last couple days in class.

Not that she'd _listened_, exactly. Not entirely. Just enough to jot down the odd note on what she figured was a likely test question. Hanging out with Jake meant she lived some of this stuff, and, anyway, Spud and Jake were good study partners. Between the three of them, they always had enough material to review for exams.

But still. From what she understood, ghosts had a reason to exist. Human ghosts, anyway. Phantoms like Danny. Ones who had once been people no different from her. Not everyone just died and became a ghost. What had Jake said Fu had told him? Danny would've had to fight back death to become a phantom. He hadn't won, obviously, but he was a ghost. Someone with unfinished business or an obsession or something.

But he seemed really…human, for a ghost.

Whatever. They could figure things out once they had time. And now definitely did not count as having time to spare, let alone time to kill. Once they had Jake's dad basically hogtied, bound by the very types of knots he'd taught them to make that one time they'd all gone camping in New Jersey, she picked up one end and Spud picked up the other and they manhandled him inside the shop. They went back for the cage and then stayed in the shop with Fu, starting another round of phone calls to see if anyone had found Shackles Jack.

After all, if they were going to end up with a loose end, he was _not_ the loose end they wanted.

But at this rate, it looked like he might be.

* * *

A/N: If anyone's wondering why Danny didn't just jump right into the fighting thing, it would be because he's trying to respect Jake's wishes and keep Jonathan Long's exposure to the magical world at a bare minimum. Suddenly flying into the room or some such thing would've blown his cover and been pretty hard to explain. That being said, some quicker action on his part probably wouldn't have been the end of the world. But how was he to know that he'd have so much trouble with overshadowing ghosts?


	16. Chapter 16

Everyone reconvened at Lao Shi's shop. Sun arrived first, followed by Susan in her car, and Haley, Jake, and Gramps returned shortly after Trixie had called them with the latest update. Shackles Jack was still on the loose, as far as they knew, but no one had caught a whiff of him. Then again, none of the dragons had seen hide or hair of any ghost, save Haley, who had witnessed Solitary Sam overtake Mr. Long.

Overtake. Possess. What was the other term that had been on all those Amity Park sites? Oh, right. Overshadow. It was _creepy_.

Spud shuddered. When he'd done that independent research project of Rotwood's, he hadn't even been sure ghosts were real. It had been before Camp Mugwomp, after all, and his first real taste of ghosts. He'd deliberately picked something that he hadn't thought was real, that he hadn't encountered since he'd realized Jake was part of this secret magical world, because he didn't want to slip up and include something that he shouldn't. After all, if Rotwood was going to do research to capture people like Jake—and Danny, apparently—then he should have to do it himself. Spud wasn't going to help him do that.

Ghosts had seemed like a logical choice at the time.

Sure, it hadn't been easy to screen through all the stuff out there. He'd talked a bit about different types of ghosts. He'd talked about theories behind them, what they were and why they remained. He'd covered malevolent and harmless spirits alike. His research into Amity Park (and, subsequently, Danny Phantom) had come when he'd been pursuing the part about haunted places and what might have tied the ghosts to that place. Amity Park was a funny place, really. Nothing tragic in its past as far as he could tell. No great fires or other disasters to wipe people out, no ancient burial grounds, no cruel treatment of people that led to ghosts coming back with a vengeance. Nothing.

Well, nothing except the theories of a couple of ghost hunters who resided there, claiming that ghosts were not necessarily bound to the human realm, that they in fact had their own realm that was separate from this one. That the skin between them sometimes tore, creating a portal between the two. That these natural portals were the reason ghosts were sighted all over the world, but that the veil between worlds, as it were, was thinner around Amity Park, making it the idea place to attempt to build a stable portal.

He hadn't included that, exactly. Not in any detail. Never mentioned the Fentons or Amity Park, even. But he'd looked at the ghosts that frequented it and used them as general examples for ghosts out there, given how detailed (and similar and therefore more likely to be credible) the accounts were of them on the internet.

He'd found it pretty interesting, actually. But he hadn't actually, genuinely thought that ghosts were real. Not in the same sense that other magical creatures were, at least. He still would've said he'd believed in them, though, because he'd believed in something. It just hadn't exactly been what this turned out to be, so it was still disconcerting.

"It's getting late," Susan said eventually, giving her children—especially Haley—a pointed look. "The kids should get some sleep."

"I can't miss this," Jake protested.

"And neither can I!" Haley added immediately. "How else am I supposed to get the experience I need?" She glanced over her shoulder, looking towards Jonathan (or rather, Sam, who was bound and gagged but still unconscious), and added, much more quietly, "Besides, I'm worried about Dad. I couldn't sleep anyway."

Susan sighed. "At least go rest in the other room, Haley."

"Go on, young one," Gramps chimed in gently. "You will not be missing very much."

Haley huffed but went off anyway, which Spud figured was just as well, because he saw her fail to stifle a yawn. Unfortunately, he caught it and barely managed to hide yawning himself. Susan shot him and Trixie a worried look as well. She knew that they knew all about the magical world, that they helped Jake, but Spud wasn't entirely sure she completely approved. He always got the feeling that she figured Jake was dragging them into danger that they weren't prepared for.

Technically, she'd be right, if that was what she thought. But probably the reason she didn't say anything was that they were useful and it was their choice to help. Just because they were still teens didn't mean they couldn't make their own decisions and choose to do what they felt was the right thing.

Or maybe it was because Gramps also knew and also let them. He hadn't put a stop to it, at any rate, and he'd knowingly let them help more than once.

"Maybe we should keep looking," Jake said. Spud—and everyone else—knew what he was talking about: Shackles Jack was still MIA. So were Danny and the other three ghosts, but the general consensus was that Danny had those three in hand. It was Shackles Jack that everyone was worried about.

The occasional comments made by Peg Leg Pat didn't help matters, which was why they weren't going to let Solitary Sam run his mouth off, either, whenever he woke up.

"Since Danny did not catch him earlier," Sun said quietly, "we must assume that Shackles Jack has already found a body. We won't be able to detect him now. We would be wasting our energy."

"It'd be better than doing nothing," Jake muttered.

"Then I will keep looking," Sun said, getting to her feet, "but it would be best for you to remain here. You will be of no use when Shackles Jack makes his move if you are too tired to act when the time comes."

Mrs. Long looked at her son's disgruntled face and then at her father. "Maybe you should go, too, Dad," she said as Sun left.

Gramps took a good look at Jake, too, before nodding once, sharply. "That may be for the best," he said. "Come, Fu Dog. Perhaps some of your contacts will be able to remember more information if we talk to them in person."

"They wo—oh, yeah. Sure." Fu stopped his protests when he caught sight of the look on Gramps's face. He'd been paging fruitlessly through a whole bunch of books this entire time and had still come up with nothing.

"That's an idea," Jake said.

"What's an idea?" asked Trixie, sounding like she had sincere doubts that it would be a good one.

"We'll talk to the oracle twins," Jake explained.

"No." The response came from Susan, firm and unyielding. "Prophesy isn't clear, Jake, and you certainly can't force it. Let them be. If something important comes to them, they'll contact us."

Jake slumped back into his chair. "We can't just wait," he complained.

"Patience, young dragon," Gramps reminded him. "Sometimes waiting is the best thing to do, no matter how hard it is."

Jake scowled. "I should be out looking with you and Sun."

"You _should_," Susan cut in, "be resting like Haley, but you aren't. You have a heavy burden, Jake, but you don't have to bear it alone. You can share it with others. Like Danny."

"Yeah. I know." Jake still had his arms crossed, and Spud knew he wasn't happy.

As Gramps and Fu snuck out, Spud tried to cheer Jake up. "Look on the bright side," he said. "Danny's done this ghost hunting thing a lot. He'll probably be back soon."

"But even if he does catch the others, we can't make them talk." Jake glanced over at Pat and Sam before saying, in a hushed voice, "These guys haven't let anything slip about Shackles Jack."

"Because of loyalty," Susan reminded him gently. "It's the same thing that binds you and Spud and Trixie together, and one of the few reasons that they were allowed to remember the magical world when you disobeyed the dragon council."

"Wait, we weren't supposed to know about the magical world?" Spud asked.

"Yeah, were you supposed to give us some magic potion or something to make us forget?" Trixie added.

"I'd never do that to you guys," Jake said immediately. "And that's not important, okay? Shackles Jack is."

"But like you keep saying, Jakey, we can't do anything about him," Trixie pointed out. "Whether we like it or not, we're stuck playing the waiting game."

"Besides, it's only been, what, half an hour since Danny left? You can chill out, dude. It's not like we've got a deadline or something."

"I know," Jake said. "I know. I just…." He glanced over at Jonathan again.

"You're worried about your father," Susan said, placing a hand on his arm. "I know that, Jake. I am, too. But we can't do anything now. We may have to wait for the Fentons to arrive."

"Which should be somewhere around—" here Spud checked his watch "—ten and a half hours from now."

Jake just groaned. "Aw, man."

* * *

By the time Danny had tracked down the third ghost and captured it in the thermos, he knew he was running dangerously low on energy. His first capture of these guys had been hard enough. Flying around to find them, searching frantically when his ghost sense went off... That had been the easy part. The _hard_ part had been keeping the ghosts secured in a shield (though thankfully that had worked; might've had something to do with the fact that they weren't like ghosts he was familiar with) and making it back to the electronics shop and _then_ mustering up enough energy to make a duplicate.

It had taken him more than five tries, and he still hadn't been able to hold it for longer than two minutes. Not when he was busy trying to keep the shield intact. At least he'd managed it. He could count the number of times he'd done that successfully on one hand. His ghost form had had a surplus of energy from the past few days, even if his human form hadn't, which was probably why he'd been able to duplicate, but that extra energy was waning fast.

Really fast.

His second wind hadn't lasted _nearly _as long as he would've liked.

He stumbled a bit on his landing. Phasing would take energy, but so would walking to the door and opening it, so he just leaned against the wall of the electronics shop and fell through. Easier, sort of. It got him right into the thick of things immediately.

Danny gave a weary smile to the people who greeted him, which at this point were only Mrs. Long and Jake and his two friends. The ghost in the cage sneered at him, and the one in Mr. Long was still out. That kind of worried Danny, since overshadowing ghosts were usually a lot more resilient than that. Maybe he was faking?

Or maybe it was because whatever he was doing wasn't quite overshadowing.

"Got 'em," Danny said, passing the thermos off to Spud. He seemed to have figured out the FentonWorks technology already even without the manual, since it didn't take him very long to get into the cage and empty the captured ghosts into it.

"You okay?" It was Trixie talking. Danny didn't have to see her to know that. "You look kinda pale. Even considering you're a ghost and all."

"I'm tired," Danny explained. He gave them a rueful smile. "I won't be any more help until I rest."

"But do you think you can find him?" Jake asked. "After you rest, I mean. Do you think you can find the last ghost?"

"Probably," Danny said. He shrugged. "I can't think of any reason why I couldn't."

"I could," Susan said as Danny yawned widely. She helped him to his feet. "Come. I'll take you home. My youngest needs to be settled into her bed, anyway." Her eyes lingered on Jake, Trixie, and Spud for a moment before she said, "I'll let you decide what you think is best, but I hope you get some sleep. You can look in the morning."

"We've got school in the morning," Jake said sullenly.

Susan gave him a small smile. "And you wouldn't hear a word in any of your classes, I'm sure. I'll call in sick for you this time, Jake, if you really want to keep looking, but Gramps is right. We probably won't be able to do anything until Shackles Jack makes himself known."

"I can scout the city," Danny offered, "and call you if I find him."

"You'll rest first," Susan said, placing her hands on his shoulders and steering him away.

It figured; Mrs. Long was just as forceful as _his_ mom was when she decided her children needed something. Maybe it was a trait all moms had, a certain tone of voice or something, where you knew you couldn't really argue with them. Jazz had that already. Sam certainly had it. It had to be a girl thing.

It was definitely a lot easier to convince his dad of something than his mom.

Danny dozed on the way to Jake's house and was definitely half asleep as he dragged himself up to his bed. He knew that if he lost any more energy, he wouldn't be able to remain in his ghost form. It was hard staying as Phantom as it was. Still, he knew how important it was to Jake to catch this last ghost, this Shackles Jack, and he knew from experience how bad it could be to let a ghost run around free for any length of time. So, he promised himself it would only be a short rest.

He should know by now not to make promises he can't keep.

A prod to his shoulder. "Danny, wake up."

He groaned. The prodding continued. "Wake up," the voice said again. Haley's?

Very slowly, he managed to pry his eyes open.

It was Haley. She smiled at him. "Good," she said. "Jake never came home last night, but Gramps called earlier and he's at the shop. He's watching Dad." She paused, then corrected herself with, "Solitary Sam, I mean. So Jake's probably asleep by now. If you go scouting for Shackles Jack now, he might be rested up by the time you find him." She tossed his cell phone to him, and he didn't manage to catch it before hit his forehead. "Oops," she said. "Sorry. But I've put all the numbers in there that you might need. Jake's and Mom's and mine and Trixie's and Spud's and Fu's…." she trailed off, eyeing him more closely as he shifted in bed to get up. "Why don't you have Danny Fenton's number in there?"

Oh, crud. Why did Haley have to be such a perceptive kid? She really did remind him of a young Jazz.

"Uh…." Danny's brow creased as he tried desperately to come up with a suitable answer. "Because, um, he, uh…."

"Tell me the truth," Haley said. She crossed her arms. "I might be young, but I'm a lot smarter than Jake."

Okay, Haley _was_ a young Jazz. No question about it.

That meant, of course, that he probably couldn't slip a lie past her. Not for very long, anyway. And for all that he'd been lying a lot recently, he was only marginally better at it. His best bet was, though he didn't want to admit it, to tell the truth.

Mostly.

Danny blew out a breath. "It's Danny Fenton's cell phone," he said. "He lets me use it."

A wide-eyed stare from Haley. "But you said you were in the Ghost Zone before you came here, didn't you? Why would you need a cell phone there?"

Crud. "I, uh, don't," Danny admitted.

"And you've been here how long? What if Danny's parents try to phone him?"

Danny shrugged. "Danny's usually hanging out with Sam and Tucker," he explained, "and as far as his parents are concerned, he either forgets his cell half the time or it's dead, so they get it if he doesn't pick up. They'll phone Jazz or Sam or Tuck if they don't get a hold of him." He gave her a wry smile. "Besides," he added, "they don't normally try calling him anyway. It's supposed to be for emergencies, but they get that he's a teenage kid and calls his friends a lot."

Haley wrinkled her nose. "He doesn't sound like he'd be as helpful to you as his sister," she said.

"Jazz isn't the be all and end all, believe me," Danny said. "She might think she knows everything, but she doesn't. But she does do her best to help, and I'd definitely be a whole lot worse off if she hadn't figured out my secret—"

"Your camouflage trick or whatever you call it?" By now, Haley—and Jake—knew that his so-called camouflage trick was a bit more in-depth than a simple change of clothes, despite what he'd let Jake assume yesterday, but so far he'd managed to avoid explaining anything.

"Yeah. She saw me pull it off once and it didn't take much for her to put two and two together. But the Fentons are good kids. If it weren't for them, I probably would've been captured and dissected by their parents by now." Technically, it was vivisection instead of dissection, even when he was in ghost mode, but he refused to think any further than that on the subject.

Haley shuddered. "Dissected?"

Oh, right. Eight year old. Despite what she undoubtedly saw whenever she accompanied Jake on his dragon business stuff, her parents probably wanted to preserve her innocence as long as possible. "Studied," Danny amended, "but they'd definitely take an ectoplasm sample from me."

"Don't let them catch you," she said in a small voice.

Danny smiled. "I won't."

Haley looked at him again, nodded once, as if satisfied, and then said, in a brighter voice than before and one which carried more than a little incredulous disdain, "Did you sleep in your clothes?"

Danny glanced down. He was still in his jumpsuit. "Guess so," he said, grinning a bit. "Not the first time it's happened." He crawled out of bed, then asked, "Did your mom tell you to wake me up?"

Haley nodded. "She's made you breakfast, and she wants to know if you'll take me to school before you go looking for Shackles Jack."

"Sure," Danny said. It probably wouldn't take him too long, anyway.

Haley gave him a bright smile. "Thanks," she said. "I'll go tell Mom."

Kids were strange. One minute, they were grilling you with impossible-to-answer questions, and the next they were smiling and bounding off to do stuff, clearly expecting you to follow. Well, Haley probably figured he'd change first, and that wouldn't be the worst idea in the world, if he had to walk her to school, but he'd be better off in his own clothes than in Jake's to save them another disappearing act. Although….

Danny tugged open the drawer of the dresser. Crammed in on top was the shirt of Jake's he'd worn—and lost—yesterday. Weird. Was that what happened to his clothes when he wasn't wearing them? Couldn't be. His parents would've noticed his HAZMAT suit had changed. Of course, it had been a while before they'd noticed that it had gone missing in the first place, but Jazz, thankfully, had come up with a reasonable excuse for that.

Still, it served him right for trying to change things in ghost mode without trying to plan it out first. He'd have to figure it out at some point, of course, unless his suit decided to grow with him in ghost mode, which he wouldn't put past it, since it could stitch itself together, but he'd puzzle all that out later. Right now, he had a ghost to catch.

His stomach growled, a sure sign that a partial transformation was enough to make his human needs known.

So, breakfast, school drop off, and _then_ ghost hunting.

* * *

"Wake up, kid."

"Hnh?" Jake blearily opened his eyes. "Fu? What're you doin' here?"

"Guard duty, apparently, even though you already slept on your watch. The old man said to say if you want to make it to school, you'd better leave now."

Oh, right. School. Joy. He'd told Trixie and Spud to head home last night before they got in trouble for being out all night with no excuse, and he'd stayed here to wait for Gramps to come back and to watch Solitary Sam and make sure he didn't escape or manage to let his friends out of the cage. He must've dropped off before G and Fu came back.

Sam was still tied up, and the other ghosts were still caged, so it didn't matter, he supposed.

Except his neck _hurt_. He was not going to sleep in a chair again. At least not any time soon.

"Mom said I didn't have to go."

"Then take it up with Gramps," Fu said, waving a paw toward the front of the shop. "He says you do."

Jake made a face but got up, stretched, and walked to the front. "Gramps?" he called.

"Ah, Jake," Gramps said from his seat by the till. "Did you sleep well?"

"No."

"It looked like you were sleeping well," Gramps countered. "That is why you are well enough to go to school."

"Aw, man, but, Gramps, I've gotta look for Shackles Jack!"

Gramps shook his head. "You will not be able to find him, young dragon. Sun and I had no luck last night. We have no way of detecting ghosts."

"I even talked to Marty," Fu called from the back, clearly having been listening in. "He's got his compass that points to souls in mortal danger, but once he cuts 'em loose and takes 'em away, they aren't his responsibility anymore. He's going to try to fix something up for you, but he ain't making any promises."

Great. Now he had no excuses. "Doing nothing can't be the best thing, G," he protested. "Shackles Jack is dangerous, and we won't find him if we don't look."

Gramps shook his head wearily. "We will not find him, Jake, if he does not want to be found. Especially not if he has already taken possession of an innocent's body. We must wait until he makes a mistake that announces his presence. Go to school, and keep your ears open. You may hear something that will point you in the right direction, and then we can see if we can find him."

He wasn't going to win this one. "Fine," Jake said. His backpack and skateboard were still here from yesterday, so he didn't even have that as an excuse. He strapped on his helmet, shouldered his backpack, and hit the sidewalk, dodging passersby. Flying would be faster, but he figured keeping his eyes _and_ ears peeled was his best bet. Besides, he had time, and the ride would give his clothes time to air out and kind of de-wrinkle so it wouldn't be too obvious he'd slept in them.

And it wasn't the first time he'd ended up skipping breakfast, either, what with one dragon thing or another.

He still cut it a bit close, jamming his board and helmet into his locker before dashing off to Rotwood's class, but he made it before the bell. Trixie and Spud shot him surprised looks but didn't have time to ask him anything before the sub started calling roll. It was the same person who had filled in last time Rotwood had missed a class, on Tuesday, but Jake couldn't really blame her for not figuring out who was missing. Someone was; there was an empty seat. If he looked around, he could probably figure out who—

Oh.

Oh, great.

This was so not good.

"Jake?"

"Here," Jake answered, still distracted. Surely he was wrong. Surely the classroom door would burst open, and the reason for being late would be normal, something completely unrelated to being possessed by a ghost….

The door remained stubbornly shut.

"Brad?" the teacher called. She looked up from her list. "Brad Morton? Does anyone know if he's here?'

"Aw, man," Jake groaned—though he was quiet enough that only Trixie and Spud heard him.

Trixie seemed to catch on first. "You think he—?"

Jake nodded. "It'd make sense, wouldn't it?" he asked as the teacher continued roll call, having marked Brad as absent. "That's who Shackles Jack planned on taking before. And Brad's probably ideal. Young, strong, stupid—"

"Weak-willed," Spud supplied. "Always a plus for the thing trying to take over your body."

"Arthur?"

"Yeah," Spud called. Turning back to Jake, he asked, "You gonna check first or just head to his place?"

"Checking would _require_ him to head to Brad's place," Trixie reminded him. "Look, Jakey, it's cool. We'll cover for you again. But call for back-up first, okay? 'Cause we won't be there to watch out for you this time."

"Trixie Carter," the substitute called, "did you have something you wanted to share with the class?"

Trixie jumped. "Uh, no, not really, ma'am. It's just, uh, I think Jake's still sick. He don't look too good to me."

The teacher sighed. "Very well, Jake. Go get checked out at the nurse's office and be sure to sign out if you leave this time."

Jake gave her a weak smile. "Thanks," he said. "I will." Meaning he wouldn't. But he doubted she'd get in trouble for it, anyway. He would, but he'd probably get in trouble anyway, seeing as this wasn't the first time. Of course, signing out—or at least heading to the office—wouldn't kill him. It might be easier to try to snag Brad's file and find his home address from that than to try to find it in the phonebook.

If all else failed, he knew Rotwood had some personal records in his office on kids in his grade in the hope that it would give him some insight into Jake himself and how he could be forced to transform unwittingly on camera, so he probably had everyone's address down anyway. Just in case something like this happened. Or someone in his grade turned out to be a siren in disguise again. Not that Rotwood had found out about that, but the point still stood. And, anyway, it wouldn't be the first time he'd ended up breaking into the principal's office to look for something.

* * *

A/N: Hands up if you saw who I had in mind for Shackles Jack coming. *grins* And many thanks, of course, to everyone who's been reading and reviewing!


	17. Chapter 17

Hans Rotwood was not in a very good mood when he was discharged from the hospital. Oh, he knew he was lucky to be in there, and he knew it was his own foolishness that had landed him there, but he wasn't happy about it. The scratches would heal and the bruises would fade, but his sprained right wrist meant he wouldn't be able to do much in terms of capturing, studying, and exposing magical creatures to the outside world anytime soon. His just dessert, certainly, for his overzealousness and rash act. But it was a bitter pill to swallow.

Jake Long had won again.

Him and that Danny Phantom, anyway. Rotwood was certain the phantom had not yet left the city. If he had, he had not yet returned to the ghost dimension. He'd spent far more than the past few weeks studying natural portals between here and there, and the phantom had been a young ghost. Inexperienced. Prone to mistakes, undoubtedly, and the same cockiness that Mr. Long carried. Not a knowledgeable ghost when in it came to tracking down and passing through unpredictable openings between the worlds.

His lesson had been learned, of course. He wouldn't be opening Pandora's Box again—even if he did happen upon the real one, which was rumoured to have surfaced in New York not too long ago but upon which he had yet to lay eyes. But he was not a man to give in easily, and that is why he still intended to attend the Paranormal Studies Convention and meet with the Fentons in person to inspect their inventory.

He realized now that he'd left behind the one thing which may have saved him this embarrassment: the net gun they'd sent along for the very purpose of easing the capture (and recapture) of ghosts. There was little he could do about that now, for what's done is done, but he still held out hope that, with the right equipment, he may yet be able to capture a ghost.

A quick search after the cab ride home revealed that all his equipment—including the cameras with which he'd filmed everything—was missing. There was a chance that they were in the park, but he figured it was far more likely that Mr. Long already had possession of them. He highly doubted that the escape of Shackles Jack and his gang would go unnoticed by the American Dragon.

He washed up, changed his clothes, pulled out a spare monocle to replace his broken one, and set off for the park. The walk would give him time to clear his head, to plan what to do as well as he could. He would pick up his car and head off again to the one electronics shop in Chinatown which always seemed to be devoid of customers, and then he'd barter, if he had to, to regain what was rightfully his.

If he was lucky, perhaps they had not collected all the cameras in the park, or perhaps they had not checked the ones they had gathered, realized that it held his treasured evidence, and set about destroying what he'd risked so much to get. If he was lucky, perhaps they were preoccupied with the unfortunate escape of the ghosts. If he was lucky….

He had not been lucky in a very long time, at least not when it came to anything remotely involving Jake Long, and he was careful not to get his hopes up this time. But he meant to look all the same. One time, Jake would slip. One time, he would get what he needed. One time, his actions would be undetected and all his hard work, all his persistence despite all his failures, would pay off.

* * *

It wasn't long after Danny had dropped Haley off at her school that his ghost sense had gone off. He'd been flying through a residential area, above the rooftops but still in plain sight if anyone ever looked up. Given the rarity of that, he hadn't bothered to go invisible. It wasn't worth the energy.

Besides, from what he understood, Shackles Jack was the leader. And not a leader like Dash was for the rest of the football team back at Casper High, but someone who was both intimidating _and_ smart. He didn't need to come into a fight with any less strength than the little flying took.

Of course, it might not be much of a fight. As the first ghost—Solitary Sam—had taunted, this was more binding than overshadowing. He couldn't just force the ghost out. But at the same time, as he'd also learned when dealing with Sam, the ghosts were restricted by their human hosts. They couldn't use their powers. No flying. No invisibility. No ectoblasts or wails or what have you. All they had was possession. That was, essentially, their vulnerability.

They could overtake people, but then they were restricted by human limitations.

Danny grimaced. The knock Jonathan Long had taken had been a mistake, but it had shown him something, at least. If Shackles Jack had already possessed some poor guy, then Danny needed to fight him as if he were human.

Considering it wasn't like dealing with Freakshow, that was…harder.

Danny slowed and hovered for a moment, listening, trying to figure out which house the ghost was likely to be in. He could go looking, yes, but this wasn't Amity Park. People weren't exactly aware that a ghost might drift (or be punched) through their walls at any given moment. They wouldn't act accordingly.

A streak of red caught his attention, though, and he saw Jake Long land in a nearby alleyway. A moment later, a very human Jake was running across the street and up to the door of one of the buildings. Danny landed behind him as Jake raised his hand to ring the doorbell. "There's an easier way to do this, you know."

Jake jumped. "Man, don't do that!"

"What, did I scare you? Kind of the point." Danny allowed himself a quick grin before returning to the business at hand. "My ghost sense went off. I'm guessing that means Shackles Jack is around."

"Yeah, I figured as much. This is Brad's house."

Danny raised an eyebrow. "Brad as in the school bully you pointed out to me?"

Jake nodded. "Brad was there at Camp Mugwomp, where all this started. He was the head of Cabin 6. The ones who won the cup. The ones the ghosts were going to possess in the first place."

Great. A ghost with an agenda. He should've figured. Danny grabbed Jake's arm. "Easier way to do this, like I said."

Danny turned them intangible and was pulling Jake into Brad's house when he heard, "The Mortons have a security system! Brad's dad's a policeman."

Danny gave Jake another grin as he dropped their intangibility. He did, however, drop his voice to a whisper—just in case. "So long as it's not the FentonWorks Anti-Creep Mode, I'm fine. Besides, Brad's still here if Shackles Jack is. The security system might not even be on."

It was more by instinct than anything else that ended their conversation after that. Danny had no idea what they'd find, and, frankly, he doubted Jake did, either. But he somehow doubted either of them had ever expected to see Mr. Morton standing over his unconscious son, laughing with a voice that—surely—was not quite his own.

The timing of Danny's moan of "Oh, crud." matched Jake's faint exclamation— "Aw, man."—perfectly.

* * *

"Jazz, sweetie, wake your brother up."

Jazz groaned, pulling off the Fenton Mask before straightening up and opening her eyes. "What time is it?" she asked blearily.

"Back home or local time?"

Danny was the one notoriously bad at math, but Jazz had been up more than half the night expecting her phone to go off—hence the lack of Fenton Plugs—and she wasn't quite awake. She never had the best sleep in the Assault Vehicle. "Local, I guess."

"Just after 9:30."

Fully awake now, Jazz craned her neck to look out the window. "Where are we?" She could see no telltale signs from here. It was a city. She could tell that much. She just had no idea which one.

Jazz caught sight of her mother's wry smile from the passenger seat before, "Your father decided he'd had enough sleep and switched me off at four this morning."

Jazz raised her eyebrows and did a quick, rough calculation in her head. "Are we here?" she asked incredulously, turning to peer at the skyscrapers again.

"Only the very outskirts," Maddie informed her. "It'll still be a while before we get settled in. We'll probably head straight to the convention grounds if that's all right with you and Danny, honey. We can eat something for brunch then."

"It's fine," Jazz said immediately. She glanced over at the Tuck-bot 9000, knowing she'd have to turn it on soon. "Mom," she began slowly, "if Danny and I stick together and promise to meet you at the convention grounds, can we go off on our own for a bit? We'll be careful, I promise!"

"Just take some ghost-fighting weapons with you, Jazzerincess!" Jack said, turning around to look at her for one terrifying moment.

Jazz shrieked as the Assault Vehicle began drifting out of its lane, and she instinctively clung to the edges of her seat. "Wrong side of the road, Dad!"

"Whoops! Sorry there, Jazzy-pants." Jack turned his attention—and eyes—back to the road and jerked the vehicle back into its proper lane. "But with the ghost hunting convention in town," he continued when the blaring horns of the other drivers had died off, "you can't take the time to look twice before shooting these spooks!"

"It's the Paranormal Studies Convention, Jack," Maddie said in the weary sort of voice that Jazz knew meant she'd been over this many times already. "It's not so much about hunting the ghosts as studying them."

That vein of conversation carried on for a while, with Jack insisting that you needed to hunt the ghosts down to study them in the first place and Maddie pointing out that, to a certain extent, observation was suitable and that the actual hunting of the ghosts only pertained to one particular aspect of a larger picture. Jazz tuned the debate out, instead leaning over to power up Danny's stand-in without being too noticeable. This wasn't the first time her parents had gotten wrapped up in their own conversations. She knew the drill.

Sure enough, some time later, Maddie twisted around to look at Jazz again. "I'd like you and Danny to stay with us for the first bit, honey. You can help us unload some of our things and get a feel for the place. And then, if you promise to stay within a few blocks, you and Danny can go off together."

Jazz smiled. "Thanks, Mom." Even though she probably would stray a lot more than a few blocks….

"Are you sure you don't want to hang out with your old man, Danny-boy?" Jack asked, this time mercifully keeping his eyes on the road.

"Comment does not compute," the robotic voice responded. Jazz couldn't help but cringe. While her parents had accepted the explanation that Danny had a cold, she still wished Tucker had been able to modify the robot's voice pattern somehow.

Jack heaved a sigh. "No, I guess not," he said dejectedly. "You kids don't want to do any more work than you have to." There was a short pause, then, "But tomorrow, the three of us can go and talk to other people there and blather on about ghosts!"

Jazz didn't need to see her father's face to know that he was grinning. Not only could she hear it in the brightness of his tone, but she also had heard him say similar things often enough to know what to expect. "I can watch the booth with Mom, Dad," she offered. "And then you and Danny can, uh, bond!" Danny would not be impressed with her for that, but she had no doubt he'd come up with some way to weasel out of it.

Besides, there was always the chance that Jack would forget to bring them along in the first place, too eager to get on with talking to—or, more often than not, _at—_other people about his passion.

"Good idea, sweetie," Maddie said. "You and I can spend some mother-daughter time together."

"And I can work on my ghost envy thesis," Jazz muttered under her breath.

It wasn't long before Maddie and Jack were absorbed in their own conversation up front again and Jazz was left on her own. She pulled out her cell phone and dialled Danny's number. It rang a few times, which meant he didn't have it turned off, which meant—

"_Now's _really_ not a good time, Jazz."_

"Hello to you, too, little brother," Jazz returned wryly. "Have you caught all the ghosts yet?"

There was a pause. _"Working on it."_

"Danny—"

"_Can I call you back? I'm a little busy."_

Jazz sighed. "Then why is your phone on?" Jazz could just imagine Danny rolling his eyes. "All right. Fine. I just wanted to let you know we made it to the outside of the city." In anticipation of Danny's question, she added, "Dad took a few extra shifts at the wheel."

"_Really?"_ It was, Jazz knew, a not-question in reference to her former statement, not her latter.

Still, the relief in Danny's voice was evident. As was the sudden crashing in the background. "Danny, what's going on?" But even as the words were out of her mouth, Jazz knew the answer. "You're in the middle of a ghost fight, aren't you? What have I told you about staying focussed?"

"_It's not, uh, exactly what you're thinking. You guys have the Fenton Ghost Catcher, right?" _

"We have one of everything," Jazz assured him, repeating what she'd told Susan Long.

"_Yeah, I got the run down over breakfast. I just wanted to be sure. I think we're gonna need it."_

"I can't bring it with me, if that's what you're thinking."

Another crash, and the distinct sound of something shattering. Danny might've been higher up when he'd first answered the phone, but he must've moved closer if she could hear things this clearly now. _"How soon is it going to be unpacked?"_

Jazz sighed. "I don't know, Danny. It's going to be a while until we even get to the place the convention is being hosted. More than an hour, for sure, judging by the traffic. Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"_Better do that later." _Danny's voice was apologetic. _"Jake looks like he needs a bit of help. Call me when the Ghost Catcher's unpacked, okay?"_

"All right. _Be careful_." She stressed the last part, but she wasn't sure Danny was really listening to her.

"_I will. Thanks."_

As Jazz hung up, she couldn't help but think of how many times she'd ended her conversations with Danny with those very words. _Be careful_. And he always promised he would be. But sometime promises and luck and a bit of care wouldn't be enough, and she wouldn't be there to protect him.

But at least someone was, if this Jake Long fulfilled his responsibilities.

* * *

"Yo, Danny, a little help!" Jake called, dodging the series of kitchen knives Shackles Jack was hurling at him. He'd already dragoned up, but he was starting to regret that decision. He felt like a bigger target. The knife that just pierced his wing _really_ served to emphasize that point.

Brad was unconscious, so Shackles Jack must've done a real number on him once he'd taken over Mr. Morton. Mrs. Morton wasn't at home, so Jake figured she'd already gone to work. Shackles Jack had probably planned that. Maybe waited and watched. Or just bided his time after he'd possessed Mr. Morton.

Jake knew Shackles Jack was smart. He knew he was the leader of the group of ghosts. He knew he'd been looking for a strong body to possess. He just hadn't realized that, before blindly taking over Brad, Shackles Jack would actually pause long enough to assess the situation and realize that it was Brad's father who had the most power in the family. The only people Brad could lord over were other kids in school. But, as he'd told Danny, Brad's dad was a police officer….

Jake landed just long enough to remove the knife from his wing. Danny, who had looked as surprised as Jake—and, if he wasn't mistaken, Shackles Jack—when his phone had started ringing, had finally gotten off of it and swooped back down into the fray to help. He was keeping Jack occupied for the moment, giving Jake a chance to tend to his injury. It hurt—a lot—but he couldn't say he hadn't had worse. Some of the Huntsclan had gotten a lot closer when he'd been more inexperienced.

Besides, he could still fly. It wasn't like his wing was broken. Gramps probably wouldn't be impressed, since he'd probably make the cut—fine, puncture—worse by tearing it further when he did fly, but Jake was willing to put up with a little extra pain and suffering if it meant knowing they had Shackles Jack in line. Now, if only they could corner him like he'd been trying to corner Jake….

There was a crash, and Jake looked up to see the shattered remains of the teapot on the floor behind Danny. He looked irritable. "Hey," he said, looking down at Shackles Jack, "I was trying _not_ to wreck stuff. Do you know how hard that is?"

"Very," Jake muttered under his breath, "when you can't hurt the guy who's throwing things." Danny had already given him the run-down on this possession thing, which was about what Jake had gathered from his observations of Solitary Sam: it would be like fighting a human.

Jake had enough experience in that department, mostly courtesy of the Huntsclan before they'd been wiped out of existence, but Danny still looked pretty uncomfortable. Of course, Jake wasn't convinced it was entirely because he wasn't just battling ghosts like he normally did. Not exactly, anyway. This wasn't something Danny had dealt with before. If he'd run into ghosts using magic and spells and stuff, it wasn't in the same way Shackles Jack and co. had.

Danny's discomfort was understandable, really. Jake couldn't blame him at all. _He _felt kind of uncomfortable, too. From what he'd understood, most of the advanced ghosts could overshadow people, as Danny put it. Possess them that way. Slip into their bodies and control them. But this…this was different. And Jake wasn't sure if it was because Shackles Jack and everyone else weren't phantoms like Danny and just didn't have that ability or what, but this spell evidently wasn't as easy to break.

Jake lost track of Danny and figured he must've gone invisible. He kept his eyes peeled, and sure enough, he caught sight of the barest shimmer in the air—right next to his shoulder. "The Fentons arrived early," Danny whispered, "but we'll need to knock Jack out if we're gonna win this without really hurting the guy he overshadowed."

"Get behind him," Jake murmured. "I'll distract him, you sneak up."

There was a pause, as if Danny was going to argue, and then he was gone. He regained visibility behind Shackles Jack and gave Jake a thumbs up signal with one hand; he was ready. In the time it had taken them to get all this organized, however, Shackles Jack had made his own move: he'd grabbed hold of Brad and now held a knife to his throat.

"Let me pass," Shackles Jack said, "or I'll see that this boy gets a taste of the other side."

Brad, to Jake's horror, stirred and groaned. He was coming around.

Jake dragoned down immediately. He couldn't risk Brad seeing a dragon in his own house. Hallucinations only went so far. It was bad enough to be plain old Jake Long in Brad's house—with anyone else, it would take a lot of explaining, but with Brad, Jake was pretty sure he'd skip to pummelling.

Brad blinked, groaning again as he opened his eyes. "Dad?" As he regained full awareness of what was going on, his eyes widened. "What the—?"

"Well?" Shackles Jack asked. He must've put more pressure on the knife because Brad yelped.

"Don't hurt him," Jake said. He didn't want to give in, but they didn't have any other choice.

He watched as Brad's eyes swivelled towards them. The shock was clear on his face, along with a mix of anger and fear. "What're you doing here, Jerk Long?" The tone was defensive. Brad was scared.

Jake opened his mouth, wondering what the heck he was going to say, and looked to Danny for advice.

Only, Danny wasn't there anymore.

Again.

"You give me a clear path and I'll release the kid," Shackles Jack told him. Jake saw Brad stiffen and shut his eyes. He obviously had no idea what was going on, and Jake figured that was probably even worse than knowing—even considering knowing meant knowing what Shackles Jack was capable of and what he planned to do.

"I'm not going to stop you," Jake said, holding up both his hands in what was probably a vain attempt to pacify the ghost.

"But I am." The voice was Danny's, but it came from Brad—along with a wicked right hook. It was from an awkward position, granted, but Danny caught Shackles Jack off his guard. Danny hissed a bit as the knife nicked him, but Jake guessed the damage was just superficial. The knife clattered to the floor and Jake scooped it up, sidestepping the ghostly brawl.

Shackles Jack was fighting back now, but even in Brad's body, Danny was quick. He managed to dodge most of the punches. But for all that he was retaliating, he wasn't gaining enough ground. Jake glanced around the kitchen, hoping to come up with some idea to help, and grimaced when he caught sight of the frying pan. It would hurt, but it would probably work.

It did.

Jake had managed to sneak up on Shackles Jack, and when Danny had ducked a punch, Jake had hit Mr. Morton round the side of his head with the pan. It was a heavy one (cast iron), and it made a horrible sound as it connected with Mr. Morton's noggin. Jake _really_ hoped it wouldn't cause any damage, but he didn't have any better ideas, and they'd been desperate.

Danny flew out of Brad's body, and Millard Fillmore's school bully dropped to the floor, groggy. "He won't remember what happened," Danny said, "but we better not take any chances." He grabbed Jake with one hand and Mr. Morton with the other, turned them all invisible and intangible, and flew out of the house.

When Danny let them go, Jake looked at him and opened his mouth, but Danny cut across him saying, "Yeah. That's overshadowing. And like I said, most people don't remember being overshadowed. Especially not the first time. Sometimes they have vague recollections, or they remember for a few seconds afterwards, like you do a dream when you just wake up, but I've overshadowed people like Brad before and seen other ghosts overshadow them. They tend to have no idea what happened."

"So Brad—?"

Danny shrugged. "He'll have a few unexplained bruises and a little cut on his neck, but he'll be fine. So long as his mom doesn't kill him when she sees the mess the house is in."

"And Brad's dad?" Jake asked, glancing at Shackles Jack.

"Same as yours," Danny answered carefully. "We've knocked him out, so now we'll have to tie him up. I can't just pull Shackles Jack out, so we'll have to wait until we can get at the FentonWorks stuff."

"You think that'll work?" Jake asked doubtfully.

Danny gave him a small smile. "The Fentons might be oblivious, and they might come up with a bunch of silly inventions with stupid names, but the things they make work. You don't have to worry about that." And, in a quieter voice that Jake probably wasn't meant to hear, Danny added, "I hope."

* * *

A/N: Anyone who has read a lot of what I write eventually realizes that the characters are not always right when they make assumptions. It's just much more fun that way. Thanks to everyone who's been commenting!


	18. Chapter 18

Luong Lao Shi had seen many things in his many years, but that did not mean that nothing could surprise him. When Jake's teacher and principal had shown up at the shop, Lao Shi had opted to be diplomatic and not mention the theft Rotwood had surely committed there not twenty-four hours earlier. But the man had brought it up of his own accord and apologized before meekly asking if Lao Shi had any idea where he might find the things he had left in the park.

He and Fu had found many things of Rotwood's in the park last night, and he had spent the morning packing them into boxes. He brought these out to the front of the shop where Rotwood was waiting. The teacher thanked him, checking quickly through the boxes to see if everything was there, and looked dismayed to see the destroyed cameras. Not all of the cameras had even been purposely destroyed by them; of the five, two had already been broken beyond repair.

Despite the ample opportunity, however, Rotwood refused to be swayed by any video cameras they had on selection and instead bid him good day before taking his leave, so Canal Street Electronics still did not have a sale on its record.

It was scarcely ten minutes later that Jake and Danny showed up with a human that he did not recognize. "It's Mr. Morton," Jake explained. "Brad's dad."

"Check over Jake," Danny added, taking the rope Fu Dog offered him and beginning to tie up the human which undoubtedly housed Shackles Jack. "His wing got torn. I didn't want to let him fly here, so I carried them."

"It's not that bad," Jake claimed, but at Lao Shi's insistence, he transformed so the wound could be examined.

"I've seen better, kid," Fu commented. "I'll get some salve for that. It'll speed your healing."

It was not the time for a lecture on watchfulness in battle, Lao Shi knew. "You have done well, young dragon," he said instead. "I did not think you would find Shackles Jack so quickly."

"It was a hunch," Jake admitted. "Brad didn't show up for class. I thought Shackles Jack had gone after him."

"I was just in the area," Danny added. "My ghost sense went off, so I knew he was around there somewhere, but I didn't know where for sure until I saw Jake run up to one of the buildings." He pulled tightly on the rope, and the knot he'd been tying came apart. "Um…how do I tie these again?" he asked.

"Like this," Lao Shi said, coming over to show him.

He got the story out of the two youngsters as they worked, and he approved their plan for further action. Though he did not exactly support Jake's skipping of school when not strictly necessary, he was aware of how much the young dragon took this bit of dragon business personally, as something for which he felt responsible. Their plan, though riddled with tiny holes, was still largely suitable, providing Danny was not mistaken in his information about the Fentons, their inventions, the Paranormal Studies Convention the family was to be attending, and the ghost hunting world in general. But Lao Shi could think of no one with whom he could confer who would be a better authority on those subjects than the phantom.

When Shackles Jack was secure, he was placed in the cage with Solitary Sam. It was the same cage they'd used earlier to hold 88 and 89, though the former Huntsclan trainees had not needed to be bound to be considered safely contained. Perhaps they should have been, and perhaps then they would not have escaped, but no great harm had come from that, and Lao Shi felt confident that the ghosts would not be able to get away in a similar fashion.

If they did, Fu Dog would not be permitted to eat on his watch again.

"Go carefully," Lao Shi instructed when Jake and Danny were ready to set off. At Lao Shi's insistence, they would not be flying; it would be too conspicuous to try to sneak into the convention grounds by magical means when the people preparing for it would be on the watch for anything out of the ordinary. "Do not take unnecessary risks. No transforming, Jake. And, Danny, perhaps you would finally be willing to use that trick of yours I keep hearing about?"

"I'll do my best to remain undetectable," Danny said by way of agreement. "It doesn't work on everything, but I'm pretty sure I'll be able to talk my way out of everything else." He glanced uncertainly at the skateboard in his hand before adding, "Can't we, you know, take public transit or something? I haven't actually ridden one of these things."

"It's not really that far," Jake assured him. "You'll get the hang of it, and if you can't, we can walk. Are you going to change or whatever now?"

Lao Shi had to smile at the hopeful note that crept into Jake's voice, but Danny shook his head. "Not yet. Not any more than I already have." The phantom had, in their search for Jake's spare skateboard and helmet, changed into clothes that he claimed were his own, ones which clearly stood out less than his jumpsuit.

Lao Shi could not help but wonder why Danny had not done this before, when he had first been going to meet the Long family, but Lao Shi supposed Jake's fears had not been enough to make the phantom take a risk when he did not truly trust them.

He hoped this change, this concession, was a sign that he was beginning to.

"We will be here if you need us," Lao Shi reminded them as Danny and Jake started off.

"We'll call if we run into trouble," Jake promised. "Thanks, G!"

And then they were gone, and Lao Shi was alone with Fu Dog in the electronics shop on Canal Street once more, left to watch over the captured ghosts while two magical creatures quite younger than he set about finding the solution to this latest problem.

* * *

"The Fentons aren't here yet," Danny said as he settled back next to Jake. Despite Gramps's request, he'd gone invisible and flown up for a quick look.

Jake wasn't complaining, seeing as what they were doing depended on the Fentons being here. "It's only been, what, an hour and a half since you talked to them?"

"Almost two," Danny corrected, pointing to an electronic clock across the street that flashed between the time, temperature, and various advertisements. "And with Jack Fenton driving, that's plenty of time."

He should know, Jake figured. "So they'll be here soon. We'll find them. We just have to stick together."

Danny shook his head. "We're gonna have to split up. I can't let the Fentons see me."

"So? Do your camouflage trick. That's the point of it, isn't it?"

Danny opened his mouth, shut it, and then said, "The Fentons recognize me when I'm like that, okay? They don't know it's _me_, Danny Phantom, but they know who I am."

Jake raised his eyebrows. "Hold on, you pretend to be an ordinary kid or something when you do this? Does _everyone_ back in Amity Park know who you are?"

Danny winced. "Uh…kind of?"

"Then what's the big deal? Why can't you do that here? No one's going to recognize you. You stand out a heck of a lot more looking like you do now." Not _exactly_ true, considering this was New York, but still.

"It's complicated," Danny said quietly. "Kind of like leading a double life, I guess. Being two different people. I can't take the risk, however small, that someone puts two and two together and figures out the truth. But don't worry," he added. "You still won't miss the Fentons. They stand out, even in a crowd like this one."

"A crowd of weirdoes?" Jake asked.

Danny snorted. "They'd probably prefer you to say 'enthusiasts'. C'mon. People are unloading things and setting up. We can walk around and blend, maybe even figure out where the FentonWorks booth is supposed to be in the first place and wait for them."

"So what are you going to do when the Fentons turn up, then, if we're not going to stick together?"

Danny grinned at him. "Grab what we need. Honest, it'll be simple. Just stand there and pretend to be interested in ghosts, and they'll talk your ear off and not notice their kids getting a few things for us."

"Do you do that a lot? Arrange for someone to distract them and pilfer their stuff?"

"More than you know." Another grin, then the repetition: "More than you know."

* * *

Danny and Jake didn't really stand out as they wove their way through the crowd of people. Danny recognized a few of them as ones which had been in Amity Park the time Vlad had put a million dollar reward on his head. The Groovy Gang and Scaredy Cat. The Extreme Ghostbreakers. A booth that _had_ to be manned by the Guys in White, even though they were obviously in what they felt was their version of 'undercover'. There were others, too, of course. Groups he'd never heard of, like the Ghostfacers, and various other small organizations and groups of scientists or hunters or enthusiasts. Not to mention some speakers who were apparently well known in the world of paranormal studies but whom Danny didn't recognize, the odd author of a thick book no one else had ever read, and journalists for some obscure newspapers or magazines that few people had even heard of.

In other words, a typical gathering that his parents fit right into.

"Man, some of these people are crazier than Rotwood," Jake whispered, leaning in so his words didn't carry past Danny's ear.

"If you think Rotwood's nuts, wait 'til you meet Jack Fenton," Danny said. "He's less, um, _respected_ than Maddie in these circles because of his enthusiasm. He's crazy about ghost hunting, and he'll make sure you know it, but he sometimes makes mistakes because he's too overzealous or whatever."

"And that's why he's easy to distract?"

"All you need to do is mention ghosts," Danny assured him. "But if you've got an actual question, they'll be good to ask. If Jack doesn't know the answer, Maddie probably will. There isn't a lot they don't know about ghosts."

It was a while before Jake said anything, and then, "You respect them, don't you? Even though they're ghost hunters."

"Yeah," Danny agreed. "They're good people. I can't really begrudge their line of work. Even if they do hunt me down." Besides, they were family, even if Jake didn't know that.

Of course, speaking of family, the loud crashing sound that nearly shook the building presumably meant his had arrived.

"What was that?" Jake asked, looking around.

"My cue to leave," Danny said. "Look for a big guy in an orange HAZMAT suit. You can't miss him."

"What? You mean that's…." Jake trailed off as Danny dashed away, and if he continued again, Danny was too far away to hear it over the chatter of everyone else.

He ran into the washroom to change, glad the partial transformations meant he wouldn't be drained of energy like last time. When he came out as Danny Fenton, he kept his eyes peeled for signs of his parents. There were enough places to duck behind to become invisible once they came in, providing he didn't make it outside first, which he sort of hoped he did. It surely wouldn't take him _that_ long to trade places with the Tuck-bot. Jazz would've been sure to clear a place for him to store it in the Assault Vehicle in case they ever needed it again.

He was nearly at the doors when his phone rang. He answered it immediately. "Jazz?"

"_Hey. How are you holding up?"_

"Pretty good, considering," Danny replied. "I'm just inside the door of the convention centre. I take it you're outside?"

"_We're unloading things now. Mom's going to find our booth while Dad keeps unpacking. If you're here, are you going to just slip in and switch with—?"_

She cut off, which Danny assumed was because of the proximity of their parents. "Yeah. If none of the inventions are on, I'll be outside in a sec."

"_You're clear."_

"Thanks." Danny pocketed his phone, sidled between two dividers, and winked out of sight. A quick walk through a few walls—and, inevitably, people, but they still put it down to normal shivers—and he managed to join Jazz in the Assault Vehicle. As he'd hoped, she'd kept the storage under his seat clear, so when no one was looking, he made the Tuck-bot 9000 intangible and slipped it into that compartment.

"Smooth," Jazz said, smiling as he regained visibility. Before he could escape, she wrapped him in a hug. "It's good to see you, little brother."

"Good to see you, too, Jazz," Danny said, giving her a quick squeeze before wrestling out of her grip.

"Jazz, Danny, can you give me a hand?" Maddie called. "Our table isn't far."

_Lunch after unpacking_, Jazz mouthed. Danny nodded, and they both scrambled out of the Assault Vehicle.

"Did you have a good rest, honey?" Maddie asked as Danny picked up a box filled with Wraith Wranglers and Jack-o'-Nine-Tails.

Danny yawned and nodded. "Yeah."

"You sound better," Maddie observed. "Are you getting over that cold?"

"Think so," Danny answered. He shot a significant look at Jazz—_thanks for telling me_, it said—and she shrugged, throwing off his unspoken sarcasm.

"Here, Mom," Jazz said, juggling a box labelled 'Fenton Ghost Gloves' that was topped with one full of Fenton Thermoses. "I'll help you carry these in and Danny can unpack the Assault Vehicle with Dad."

"Good idea, sweetie," Maddie said. "Here, let me take that, Danny," she added, coming over to take the box from him.

Danny relinquished it and turned back to the Assault Vehicle. He snatched up a few Fenton Cuffs and shoved them into his pocket, thinking they might come in useful later. He was pretty sure Jazz had already snagged him a thermos in case of an emergency, and while he hadn't seen the Fenton Ghost Catcher yet, he had no doubt that it was in there. Somewhere. Getting it away would be a little interesting, though, despite what he'd told Jake. His parents only had one, and even if he only intended it to borrow it for a very brief time, they might still notice that it was missing.

Then again, if they were suitably distracted by everything else, maybe they wouldn't.

He was kind of betting on that.

"Uh, Dad, do you need some help?" Danny asked, seeing his father struggle with the Fenton Fisher. It had gotten tangled around the hose of the Fenton Weasel.

"Sure, son," Jack said, eagerly passing it off. "And when you're done with that, see if you can dig out the Booo-merang. I think it got wedged under your seat."

Oh, great. Just what he needed. Getting hit in the head with that thing when his dad decided to show it off. Or, worse, having it find him halfway across the city….

He should've had Tucker find a way of disabling that so that they only used it when they really _needed_ to find him.

Jack handed Danny the Fenton Fisher (and Fenton Weasel), and Danny set about trying to do what his father never could: untangle the thing. It would be a lot easier if he could just phase the Fenton Fisher line through the Fenton Weasel, but with the inventions being what they were, that was impossible. Besides, he'd have to pick the knots out of the fishing line anyway. Since he figured he'd be there a while, he crawled back onto his seat in the Assault Vehicle for the time being. From there, he could see what his dad was doing and keep an eye on the convention centre doors nearest to them.

Just after Maddie and Jazz came back for another load, he saw Jake wander up to the Assault Vehicle, homing in on Jack. "Hey, uh, are you Mr. Fenton?" Danny hid a smirk at Jake's question, considering that Jack had just finished hauling out a couple of prominently-labelled Fenton Bazookas. Jake must have noticed the Fenton name, however, since he continued, "I was, uh, wondering if you could tell me about ghosts."

The grin on Jack's face broadened. "Of course!" he boomed, clapping Jake on the shoulder. "Danny," he called, ignoring the fact that Jake had to stumble forward to keep on his feet, "come meet—uh, sorry, what was your name?"

"Jake Long," Jake replied.

"Come meet Jake here," Jack said. "He wants to know about ghosts!"

"Great, Dad," Danny said automatically, but he climbed back out to meet Jake anyway. "Hi," he said, raising a hand. "I'm Danny Fenton."

Jake gaped at him for a moment. "Uh, Jake," he said, recovering enough to stick out his hand. "Jake Long."

Danny, with a bit of difficulty because he was still carrying the inventions, shook it. "Nice to meet you." Turning to his father, he said, "I think we'll have to take the hose off the Fenton Weasel to get this undone, Dad."

This news didn't seem to faze Jack, who took it easily and started to dismantle it as he began blathering on about ghosts to Jake, beginning with how these particular inventions could be used to hunt them and then expanding into his general explanation of how all ghosts were evil and what they were like. Jake was looking increasingly uncomfortable, but Danny saw no reason to rescue him, since this gave him ample time to search the Assault Vehicle for the Fenton Ghost Catcher. He found it, dragged it out and around another vehicle to hide it from view, then went back and snagged the Booo-merang from under the seat before flashing Jake a quick 'OK' sign.

Jazz and Maddie chose that moment to turn up, so the round of introductions began again before Jake could get away—or ask any questions of Danny. As the ghost talk continued, Jazz walked over to Danny. "Your friend?" she asked under her breath.

Danny gave her a small nod. "I've got everything I need, too. Think we can get away from Mom and Dad?"

Jazz glanced over her shoulder. "We might be able to get away for lunch by ourselves. Dad seems to have taken a shine to Jake—"

"He takes a shine to anyone who seems interested in ghosts," Danny muttered.

"—so we might be able to get away with him," Jazz finished. "You know, offer to tell him a bit about this stuff ourselves."

"So pretend we're interested, too," Danny translated, "and telling it to our new friends."

"You don't really need to pretend to be interested, you know," Jazz said, giving him a look. "You always were."

Danny decided not to argue. "I liked things better when I wasn't targeted. Look, I've got a better idea. _You _go off with Jake—"

"_Me_? He's closer to your a—" Jazz broke off. "Oh. Right. Are you going to bring the Ghost Catcher?"

"Yeah. I'll follow you guys."

"Fill Jake in on the plan, then," Jazz said. "I'll talk to Mom and Dad."

They split, with Jazz jumping into the conversation with their parents and Danny pulling Jake off to one side. "We've got the stuff Phantom wanted," Danny said quietly, starting his explanation before Jake could open his mouth. "He'll pick it up and meet you and Jazz somewhere. I'm going to stay here and keep my parents distracted."

Jake opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again and said, "You guys do this a lot?"

Danny reminded himself that Jake didn't realize he'd asked the same person that same question twice, so he kept his voice light while he answered, "Distract them while Phantom grabs stuff? Yeah. Or we get it for him. Just ignore what Dad was telling you; not all ghosts are evil. Phantom's not."

"You know," Jake said hesitantly, "you kinda sound like him."

Danny could fill in the rest: _and look like him_. It figured. No one in Amity Park saw it because they didn't want to see it, didn't even think, let alone know, to look for it. His parents didn't see it because it wasn't possible. But Jake was _used_ to dealing with what wasn't possible, or at least what wasn't possible to everyone else.

Danny shrugged. "I spend a lot of time with him. We're friends." It wasn't an explanation, but it would do for now. Danny reached into his pocket and pulled out the few pairs of Fenton Cuffs he'd snatched earlier and passed them to Jake. "Here. You might need these, too. The ghosts can't phase through them."

"Thanks," Jake said awkwardly, taking them. "Look, uh, did Danny—I mean, Phantom—tell you that I kind of, um…."

"Borrowed my name?" Danny guessed. "It's okay. Just don't call him that around my parents. That would take a lot of explaining and I'd probably end up coated in goo, so I'd rather not go through it again."

"Again?"

"Ask Jazz about it. Dad's assumed she's been overshadowed more often than me, so she's had it worse. But we've all gotten faces full of stuff from the Fenton Foamer." Danny pointed over his shoulder. "We've got one in the Assault Vehicle, if you're interested in actually looking at it."

"The…assault vehicle?"

"Fenton Family Ghost Assault Vehicle," Danny explained. "Also, probably the only thing we brought with a portable ghost shield. But hopefully you won't need that."

"Hopefully," Jake echoed, sounding like he still wasn't entirely sure what was going on. Danny turned away, intending to switch places with Jazz, but before he could go, Jake grabbed his arm. "Hey, uh, Danny?"

"Yeah?"

"You know Phantom well?"

"Yeah," Danny agreed carefully. "Better than my parents do, anyway."

"D'you know his secret?"

"Secret?" Danny repeated.

"How he, you know, blends in. Doesn't get caught."

Against his better judgement, Danny nodded.

Jake continued, "And your sister? Her, too?"

"She found out after, but, yeah, she figured it out. Jazz is smart. A lot smarter than me," Danny acknowledged. "She's helped Phantom out more than he'll admit to her."

"But your friends, Sam and Tucker. Phantom mentioned them a few times. They know, too?"

He should probably have stopped answering these questions a while ago, but Danny wasn't sure where Jake was going with this. "Yeah. Them, too. Why?"

"So the four of you know?"

Danny sighed. "Look, Jake, if you're curious about Phantom, you should be asking him, not me."

Jake looked a bit nervous, as if he knew this. Or, Danny realized, as if he had just confirmed something that didn't make sense. Something that didn't add up. Jazz got the same look on her face.

Oh, crud. What had he told Jake before that he'd just messed up now?

"And do you know who he was?" Jake blurted. "You know, before?"

"Before?" It was too late to stop now, right? He couldn't head it off at the pass, so it would be best to just guide it along a safer path.

"Before he became a ghost. A phantom."

Oh.

He should have _really_ seen this coming.

"You do," Jake said slowly. Danny cringed, wishing his thoughts weren't so clear on his face. Keeping secrets for so long should've taught him to school his features better, but he was still terrible at it. "But I don't get it. If you know, how come his parents don't? I mean, they don't, do they? It's just you guys? His friends? How come no one else has noticed?"

Danny gave a small shrug. "His parents don't know," he said quietly. "But you can't really blame them. They wouldn't be looking for it. For him, I mean. It's not what they'd want for him. Not if they thought he was going to be like all the other ghosts. He's not, but…. They don't know that. Besides," he added softly, more to himself than to Jake, thinking that it was too late now anyway, "sometimes things change when they pass over."

* * *

A/N: So, was the arrival of the Fentons worth the wait?


	19. Bonus: Jake Meets the Fentons

A/N: Hello, folks. We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming for an impromptu feature of _The Flipside_. This week's episode, _Jake Meets the Fentons_, was written at the request of Deborahpflover and features a reference just for Prophet of Shadow. Corniness of the preceding note aside, this segment was quickly written but has been kept up despite repetition by request.

* * *

"_Look for a big guy in an orange HAZMAT suit,"_ Danny had said. _"You can't miss him."_

Even with that piece of advice, Jake wasn't too happy that Danny had just run off. Then again, they were in the middle of a crowd of people who, if not spending their lives hunting ghosts, at least studied them or followed studies of them closely. If Danny was really worried about the Fentons catching on to anything he was doing, Jake could understand him deciding to become scarce.

Still, as far as Jake was concerned, it wouldn't have killed Danny to at least do his camouflage trick on the rest of the people. How many of these guys would have actually seen his disguise, let alone potentially recognize him?

Apparently more than Jake thought.

It didn't help that he'd gotten turned around. Sure, he'd been here for the comic con, and a few other times before that to attend various events, but the place was still in the process of being set up. Dividers were still going up, people were _everywhere_, and, frankly, at the rate things were changing, he wasn't entirely sure which direction he was facing. He was pretty sure they'd come in the south doors, which would mean he was somewhere in the northeast corner of the complex, but he'd been paying more attention to Danny than to where he was going.

Still, he knew which room he was in now. He knew all the exits. He knew where the washrooms were and where the food vendors would set up. He knew which passageways led to other rooms, more auditoriums and stuff, and he knew they hadn't gone through any of those. Well, they'd checked a few out, the ones nearest to the entrance they'd come in, but they'd guessed that most of those rooms were going to be used for presentations and demonstrations rather than just more booths and tables and had stuck to the main part of the main building. They hadn't even ventured down to the lower level.

That being said, he didn't think they'd ever gone past the Ghostbusters booth, but with the wacky and nigh on identical names these guys had, he couldn't be sure. Ghostbusters, Ghostbreakers, Ghostfacers... How was he supposed to tell them apart? At least he knew he didn't recognize the funny symbol the Ghostbusters booth had prominently displayed, the one that looked like a no-smoking sign except with a cartoonish Hallowe'en type ghost in the middle instead of a cigarette; he remembered pictures better than he remembered names.

Jake kept going in the direction he'd been heading—away from the direction Danny had gone—and decided to go out the west doors (or at least what he thought were the west doors). He was pretty far on the east end of the room now. He'd lost track of Danny when he'd ducked around the dividers that ran the periphery, behind which _more_ tables were being set up, but Jake figured it was a safe bet that if Danny had run one way, he'd find the Fentons in the other direction.

The west doors, like all the others in the building, were propped open so people could haul their equipment and other paraphernalia in and out. As he headed out, he heard, above the running chatter of everyone else, "…FentonWorks booth just over here, sweetie." He twisted around in time to see that the speaker was a woman in a blue jumpsuit, not unlike Danny's, and that she was trailed by a teenager, probably the daughter—Jazz, Jake realized—carrying a load of boxes to a table just about five booths down from the door. So if they were the Fentons, then the rest of the family had to be—

Jake stepped out of the doorway and moved over to lean against the wall, scanning the parking lot. Even considering it was just the people setting up, this particular parking lot was already pretty crammed—or at least the spaces near the doors were. But it didn't take him long to spot a mammoth of a man in a bright orange jumpsuit pulling boxes out of an RV. Jake might be too young to drive, but even he could tell it was parked illegally. Yellow lines aside, the thing was halfway up the sidewalk that ran along the outside of the building.

As Jake walked closer, he could see that it looked like a few bricks were loose in the wall of the building, and despite the fact that the vehicle wasn't even dented, he got the feeling that it had been backed up.

No wonder he'd heard that crash from the other side of the building—over the crowd, no less.

Jake stopped when he was close—but not _too _close—to the man who had to be Jack. "Hey, uh, are you Mr. Fenton?" he asked. Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he noticed that the man was holding a box of some…things…that looked reminiscent of the potato gun Spud had made for science class last year, and the box itself had 'Fenton Bazookas' scrawled across it. Confident now that he'd found the right people, Jake continued, "I was, uh, wondering if you could tell me about ghosts."

The effect of the question was immediate. The man's face brightened, and the grin he was already wearing spread practically to his ears. "Of course!" the man—Jack—bellowed. The box was shifted to one arm, and the other clapped Jake on the back so hard he almost lost his balance.

He was suddenly very, very glad that Danny had emphasized how friendly and, excepting the times his family was threatened, harmless Jack Fenton was. He did not want to see this guy mad. Ever.

"Danny," Jack hollered, "come meet—uh, sorry, what was your name?"

For a split second, Jake thought Jack had called Danny Phantom, which made no sense at all. And then he remembered what Danny had said, and the reason he hadn't been happy when Jake had introduced him to his family as Danny Fenton: the Fentons already _had_ a son named Danny.

It hadn't seemed like that big of a deal to Jake at the time, but now that he was going to be meeting this other Danny? He understood some of Danny's apprehension.

Jack was looking at him expectantly, and Jake remembered to spit out his name: "Jake Long."

"Come meet Jake here," Jack shouted. "He wants to know about ghosts!"

The enthusiasm in the man's voice was incredible. He was more excited about ghosts than Rotwood was about magical creatures. Heck, he sounded like Rotwood did when he caught magical creatures, and as one of the magical creatures Rotwood had caught, Jake figured he should know. This Fenton guy was almost crowing with excitement, bubbling over like Rotwood had when he'd had Jake trapped in that dragon-proof truck, ready to take him to a press conference and smugly confident that Jake wouldn't be able to get away.

The kid—Danny—was nowhere in immediate sight, but Jake could hear his notably _un_enthusiastic response. A dull, "Great, Dad." Like he was used to this, and it was one of the most boring things he had to suffer through in his life.

And then the kid climbed out of the RV, and Jake couldn't stop his mouth from hanging open.

He looked….

Man, this kid looked like the Danny he knew. A heckuva lot. Way more than had to be normal. They could've been brothers. Not identical twins, admittedly. Danny Fenton had black hair and blue eyes, so no one would ever mix them up, but they had the same scrawny build, the same messy hair, the same...

It was creepy.

Even the kid's _shoes_ looked like Danny's; they were the same red coloured, slightly-scuffed sneakers and everything. Danny Fenton wore jeans, like a bunch of other kids, and a white-and-red T-shirt, which was different from Danny Phantom's black one that bore the same white symbol his jumpsuit did, but otherwise? They were practically carbon copies of each other.

It couldn't be normal, that level of similarity. It just…couldn't. And Jake had seen a lot of wacky things, so he had a _much_ broader definition of what could be normal than most kids.

Danny Fenton was staring at him now, a slightly bored look in his eyes. Jake wondered, for a brief second, how much of it was an act. Had Danny told both Fenton kids the plan? He had to have. But Danny Fenton gave no indication that he knew anything of Danny Phantom's plans.

Of course, that could be because he wasn't sure that Jake was the one he was supposed to be waiting for. Jake hastily closed his mouth and stuck out his hand, realizing that Danny had already introduced himself and that it was his turn. "Uh, Jake. Jake Long."

He waited for a flicker of recognition in the eyes, but there was nothing. Either Danny Phantom hadn't said anything to Danny Fenton, or the kid was a better actor than he was, all for the sake of making sure he wasn't caught out by his parents. Must be hard, being the son of ghost hunters and helping a ghost instead of trying to capture it….

Despite the fact that Danny Fenton was holding some of his parents' stuff, a fishing rod and what looked kind of like a vacuum cleaner, he managed to shake Jake's hand in return. "Nice to meet you," he said. Then, without missing a beat, he ignored Jake and looked at his father. "I think we'll have to take the hose off the Fenton Weasel to get this undone, Dad."

Jack Fenton, who had by now dropped the box of Fenton Bazookas at his feet, took the inventions—they had to be inventions—off his son's hands and started to take the vacuum cleaner thing apart. And then he started talking. And talking. And talking.

Jake didn't catch most of it, mostly because he was suddenly distracted by the fact that Danny Fenton had gone into action, digging through the RV with a determination that meant, to Jake, that he had to know what he was looking for. Danny had talked to him, then—or at least to Jazz, who had passed on the instructions to her little brother.

Still, Jake heard enough of Jack's speech to figure out that the invention Jack was holding was the Fenton Ghost Weasel, used to capture ghosts and, if on the right setting, extract them from overshadowed humans. Before Jake really had time to wonder if that would be helpful for dealing with Shackles Jack and Solitary Sam, Jack had moved on to babbling about the fishing rod thingy, the Fenton Ghost Fisher, noting how it was ideal for fishing for ghosts in the Ghost Zone (big surprise) and how the line was specifically coated, like most of their ghost-proof inventions, with a specialized formula that was (supposedly) impossible for ghosts to phase through.

That explanation had blended into one about ghosts and various ghost powers, and from there to how scheming and just plain evil ghosts were, and Jake couldn't help but think of Danny Phantom. He'd seemed about as far from evil as, well, as he himself was. To Jake, Danny just felt like another kid. Of course, he wasn't another kid, or at least not another ordinary kid. He was a ghost. Just like Jake was a dragon. And Jake was pretty sure that just being a ghost didn't automatically make him evil. He didn't _act_ evil.

By the time Danny Fenton had found what he was obviously looking for, some dream-catcher-like contraption mounted on a stand that he had soon moved out of Jack's sight, Jake's mind had essentially shut out Jack Fenton's voice. It wasn't a constant droning, but actually rather like Charlie Brown's teacher off the _Peanuts_ cartoons he would sometimes watch with Haley and his dad. The realization itself was distracting, since Jake hadn't thought he'd _ever_ hear that in real life, with real words devolved into sounds, especially since it hadn't yet happened in Rotwood's class.

Jake absently noticed that Danny Fenton was carrying a boomerang when he caught Jake's eye and, very deliberately, made an 'OK' sign with one hand. Jake snapped out of his stupor, Jack Fenton's voice immediately sharpening and coming back into focus. Before Jake could say anything, however, the woman and teen from earlier returned, evidently having set up or at the very least dropped off the boxes they'd been carrying before.

"Maddie," Jack said, breaking off his explanation abruptly. "This is Jake Long. I've been telling him about ghosts!"

"He asked, I hope," Jazz muttered.

Jack nodded eagerly. "He's loving it! Aren't you, Jakey?"

Jake blinked, not expecting to be addressed. "Uh…yes?" He knew it was the appropriate answer, but he couldn't help but wonder if he should've told the truth: that Jack had lost him at least five minutes ago.

"See?" Jack was beaming at them. "He wants to be a ghost hunter when he grows up, right?"

"Uh—"

"Dad," Jazz said, a warning tone in her voice. Turning to Jake, she held out her hand. "Jazz Fenton. Pleased to meet you."

"Um, pleasure," Jake said, shaking her hand.

"I'm Maddie, sweetie," the woman said, holding out her hand as well. She smiled at him. "You remind me a bit of my Danny, you know." The smile faded to a slight frown. "Both of you could use a comb…."

Jazz rolled her eyes and turned away to talk to her brother, who had successfully managed to avoid being dragged into the conversation, so Jake was left making small talk with the elder Fentons. He quickly realized that Maddie was the only reason Jack hadn't started another lengthy explanation on ghosts and their nature, since she kept cutting in, sometimes correcting her husband and sometimes redirecting the conversation to something a bit easier to understand. Danny Phantom definitely hadn't been kidding when he'd said that the Fentons knew their stuff. They must know more about ghosts than Gramps and Fu Dog combined, and the two of them had lived a heck of a lot longer than Jack and Maddie Fenton.

Granted, from what he understood, Jack and Maddie Fenton had met more ghosts than anyone else he knew, with the notable exception of Danny Phantom.

Jazz Fenton suddenly appeared at his shoulder. "Hey, Mom, Dad," she said, "since Jake is interested in ghosts, then there's no reason he shouldn't learn more over lunch. I thought it would be great if…."

Before Jake could hear any more, Danny Fenton had yanked him out of the group. "We've got the stuff Phantom wanted," he said. "He'll pick it up and meet you and Jazz somewhere. I'm going to stay here and keep my parents distracted."

Jake had trouble dragging his brain out of neutral. The first thing he found to focus on was the ease with which Danny and Jazz handled their parents. He'd assumed they'd done this for Danny Phantom before, since Danny _had_ said that he got people to do this for him, but Jake had assumed that Danny's friends, Sam and Tucker, had done just as much if not more of the invention nicking. That way, Danny and Jazz would always have an alibi and wouldn't be blamed for misplacing stuff or anything like that. But maybe they didn't need one. Maybe their parents never even noticed that stuff went missing, or at least never considered questioning their kids. "You guys do this a lot?" Jake finally asked.

Danny smirked. "Distract them while Phantom grabs stuff? Yeah. Or we get it for him. Just ignore what Dad was telling you; not all ghosts are evil. Phantom's not."

By this point, Jake had decided that Danny Fenton not only _looked_ an awful lot like Danny Phantom, but he also had the same sort of voice. The same inflections. The same sarcasm and dry wit. The same tone when he said certain things or talked about certain stuff, like the exasperation in his voice when he talked about his parents insisting that all ghosts were evil. It strongly reminded Jake of when Danny Phantom had been telling his family about ghosts and how his 'parents' refused to accept that good ghosts existed.

He had to say something. He just…. He had to. "You know…. You kinda sound like him." Jake wasn't sure what was weirder, the sound or the looks, but it was somehow a lot easier to accuse someone of sounding like a ghost than looking like one, especially one his parents hated, judging by what Danny had told him. Of course, the way Danny Phantom had talked about himself being called a piece of 'putrid protoplasm' with a tone that sounded almost like affection just made the whole thing weirder.

Danny's response was a shrug. If anyone else had ever commented on their similarities, it didn't bother him. Either it happened a lot or this was the first time he'd heard it. "I spend a lot of time with him. We're friends." Before Jake could ask anything else, Danny pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Blocky, kinda flimsy-looking handcuffs, but still undeniably handcuffs. He handed them to Jake, saying, "Here. You might need these, too. The ghosts can't phase through them."

Jake pocketed them, figuring they worked like the cage Rotwood had used to hold Phantom and which they were now using to hold the ghosts from Shackles Jack's gang—something which reacted to restrict a ghost whenever it came in contact with one. "Thanks."

It was then that Jake remembered, with a bit of burning shame he hoped didn't show, that he'd stolen Danny Fenton's name. If Danny Phantom hadn't been too happy about it, he doubted Danny Fenton would be very impressed. Still, if there was any chance that his dad recovered enough from being overtaken by Solitary Sam to want to go to the convention, he was not going to be the reason this stolen identity mess blew up in their faces any more than he already was. "Look, uh, did Danny—I mean, Phantom—tell you that I kind of, um…."

"Borrowed my name?" Danny didn't sound surprised. "It's okay. Just don't call him that around my parents. That would take a lot of explaining and I'd probably end up coated in goo, so I'd rather not go through it again."

"Again?" Danny Phantom hadn't told him anything about anyone being covered in goo. Maybe he didn't know about that. Or maybe it had just never come up when he was around.

"Ask Jazz about it," Danny said dismissively. "Dad's assumed she's been overshadowed more often than me, so she's had it worse. But we've all gotten faces full of stuff from the Fenton Foamer." He jerked his thumb toward the RV. "We've got one in the Assault Vehicle, if you're interested in actually looking at it."

"The…assault vehicle?" He vaguely recalled Danny Phantom saying something about that. Maybe he'd blocked out more of the conversation around the dinner table than he'd thought. Or maybe Danny had said a bunch of this stuff while he'd been in the kitchen on dish duty with his mom.

"Fenton Family Ghost Assault Vehicle," Danny Fenton said simply. "Also, probably the only thing we brought with a portable ghost shield. But hopefully you won't need that."

"Hopefully," Jake repeated. Ghost shield he'd heard of. A portable one, no. Aw, man, if they _did_ end up needing that because Shackles Jack or anyone else escaped….

Good thing Jazz looked old enough to drive, because he doubted Gramps would be particularly keen on stealing the Fentons' vehicle.

Danny turned away, and Jake realized he had a million questions left to ask. He grabbed Danny's arm, stopping him. "Hey, uh, Danny?"

"Yeah?"

Jake hesitated, then took the plunge. "You know Phantom well?"

"Yeah. Better than my parents do, anyway."

In for a penny, in for a pound. Might as well ask what he _really_ wanted to know. "D'you know his secret?"

"Secret?" Now it was Danny parroting his words instead of the other way around.

"How he, you know, blends in," Jake explained. "Doesn't get caught." At Danny's nod, Jake asked, "And your sister? Her, too?"

"She found out after, but, yeah, she figured it out. Jazz is smart. A lot smarter than me. She's helped Phantom out more than he'll admit to her."

"But your friends," Jake said, homing in on what suddenly made no sense to him at all, "Sam and Tucker. Phantom mentioned them a few times. They know, too?" If Danny confirmed this….

"Yeah. Them, too. Why?"

Aw, man, this couldn't be good. He had to be sure. "So the four of you know?"

A sigh. "Look, Jake, if you're curious about Phantom, you should be asking him, not me."

Maybe he should be asking Phantom, like Danny said, but…. But it wasn't going to help him if he wasn't going to be getting the same answer when he asked the same questions. Someone was wrong. Danny might be lying to protect Phantom or maybe he was just plain mistaken, but….

Jake couldn't explain the sickening feeling in his gut to Danny. He wasn't even sure he could explain it to Phantom. He just knew he didn't want it to be there, but it was, and…. He wanted it to go away.

Jake swallowed, trying to push the feeling away. It was probably just some mix up. Something _he'd_ misunderstood. But Danny Phantom had so many secrets….

The words were out of his mouth almost before Jake realized he was saying them. "And do you know who he was? You know, before?"

Danny had a blank look on his face. "Before?" he repeated.

"Before he became a ghost," Jake clarified. "A phantom." He read the expression on Danny's face, and he had his answer. "You do," he realized. "But I don't get it. If you know, how come his parents don't? I mean, they don't, do they? It's just you guys? His friends? How come no one else has noticed?" That's what really didn't make sense to him. How different could Danny be?

Danny Fenton gave him another small shrug. "His parents don't know," he said softly. He sounded…sad, almost, which made sense, considering he probably knew who Danny Phantom's parents were. Considering he, and Jazz and Sam and Tucker, had to watch as Phantom purposely never came in contact with his parents. As he kept living his afterlife without them, with only his friends for support. As he pretended to be someone else, like he had to be, if his parents hadn't figured out who he was.

Jake remembered what his mom had told him when she'd warned him not to try to use duplicates to sneak out or otherwise make his life easier: that a mother can always recognize her child. Her _real_ child, anyway; the original one, so to speak, in his case. So why didn't Danny Phantom's parents know him, even if he was now a ghost? What difference did it make?

Jake hadn't asked the question aloud, but Danny answered him anyway. "But you can't really blame them," he said. "They wouldn't be looking for it. For him, I mean. It's not what they'd want for him. Not if they thought he was going to be like all the other ghosts. He's not, but…. They don't know that. Besides," he added, his voice even quieter than before, "sometimes things change when they pass over."


	20. Chapter 20

Jake wasn't sure what to think. Danny _Fenton_ had just given him Danny _Phantom_'s words, and now he was being dragged off by Jazz Fenton, and they'd hardly gotten around the corner and out of sight before Danny Phantom showed up with the thing that looked like a dream catcher on a stand.

"Fenton Ghost Catcher," Danny explained at Jake's blank look. He turned to Jazz. "You've got a thermos?"

"And a lipstick, wrist-ray, and ectogun. I'd say we're covered."

"And I've got, uh, handcuffs," Jake added, pulling one out.

Danny smiled. "Great. Those'll come in handy, too."

"I never saw you," Jake said, absently noting that Danny had gone back to wearing his jumpsuit thing again, "after you left."

"You weren't supposed to," Danny pointed out. "I told you I was playing it safe. The Fentons weren't too hard to find, I take it?"

Jazz snorted. "You've been around Amity Park long enough, Phantom, to know Mom and Dad—especially Dad—tend to announce their presence. I'd be surprised if anyone looking for us missed us." She looked at Jake then, adding, "Thanks. For looking after him. Phantom might be a ghost, but if my parents have taught me anything, it's that even ghosts can be destroyed. And I don't want that for him. He's a hero."

"Jazz!" To Jake's surprise, Danny looked flushed.

Ghosts…were weird. Didn't you need blood to—no, he wasn't even going to think about it. "It's cool," Jake said. "He's not much trouble."

"Gee, thanks," Danny said sarcastically. "I'm only helping you get rid of a ghost problem."

"It's what you do," Jazz reminded him. Danny made a face at her.

It was _really_ weird to watch. Man, they acted like he and Haley did. That's not to say he'd never made faces at his friends or had the same done back to him, but the banter was…. It wasn't the same as the kind that went between him and Spud and Trixie.

Then again, Danny and Jazz and, presumably, Danny and Sam and Tucker weren't necessarily like him and Spud and Trix. Not all good, close friends shared the same things. Not in the same way, anyway. Even when important secrets were shared, like him being the Am Drag and Danny Phantom being able to do his…trick thing.

But if Danny Fenton was right, then four of them knew about Danny Phantom's secret, whatever it was. And Danny Phantom had said three. And Jake…. He kind of got the feeling that that hadn't been a slip or a deliberate lie on Danny Phantom's part. Which meant Danny Fenton had to have lied to him, even if Jake had no idea why.

He was also figuring out, really fast, why Jazz kept referring to him as Phantom. He'd started with it, but he'd fallen out of the habit. Once Danny had become Danny, well, he'd seemed less ghost-like. Less like a phantom. Except that's what a phantom was, according to Fu. A human-like ghost, to the point that you didn't always realize that it was a phantom and not actually another person.

Not to mention that he'd had to call him Danny in front of his parents, and then just using Phantom like it was his last name, the way he did with Rotwood, didn't seem…right. Especially not since he'd realized, pretty quickly after meeting Danny, that he was definitely a good ghost like he kept insisting.

Of course, that was another thing. Jake highly doubted that Phantom really was Danny's last name. He'd probably just adopted it because that's what he was. After all, with as many ghosts floating around Amity Park as it sounded like there were, it wouldn't exactly be unusual. Keeping ghosts a secret there was already a lost cause, so knowledge of magical creatures there, providing it didn't really spread too far or go beyond ghosts, didn't matter.

So maybe it had been to hide who he really was.

Because his parents didn't know.

And, presumably, the rest of Amity Park didn't know, its ghost hunters included.

Since he didn't _want_ them to know.

Why the heck would he keep who he was from the ghost hunters who chased him down if it meant they'd stop?

But that was it, of course. Because they wouldn't. Because they'd be like the Huntsclan, not like Rose. They wouldn't stop when they found out who he was. They'd hunt him down anyway. Catch him and kill him. Or destroy him. Jazz had said as much. Danny had definitely implied it.

"Jake?"

Jake blinked and realized that Jazz Fenton was waving a hand in front of his face. She gave him a rueful smile. "Sorry," she said, "but you weren't paying attention. Danny's going to fly us, all right? It'll be faster."

"Oh. Right. Uh, I'll catch up with you. We've still got our boards here. I won't be far behind you. You can go on without me."

"You're sure?" Jazz was definitely looking at him, not at Danny.

"Danny knows the way," Jake said.

"I hope so, because he can have a terrible sense of direction sometimes."

"_Hey_!"

"It's true. Don't pretend it's not."

"I'm getting better. I'm loads better than I used to be."

"But you still need improvement," Jazz retorted.

"I managed to map the part of the Ghost Zone close to the portal when you've only been there once!"

"But that was after you got lost how many times, exactly?"

Jake closed his eyes. He was still getting the brother-sister vibe. And it was still freaky. Probably because of the fact that there really was a Danny Fenton who, honestly, was creepily similar to Danny Phantom. If he thought about it. Which he was really finding it hard not to do.

"I know the way, okay? Just trust me."

"Yeah." Jazz's voice was softer now, the teasing tone gone. It was caring instead. "I do."

Jake opened his eyes. He might not be that great at reading people—heck, he'd gotten it wrong enough times to essentially say he couldn't really do it very well at all—but he could not shake that feeling he got. Heck, it almost seemed like Danny Phantom was more Jazz's brother than Danny Fenton. Granted, he hadn't spent a whole lot of time with Danny Fenton….

But maybe that was it. Well, not _it_, exactly, but maybe this wasn't what he'd been thinking initially. Maybe Danny Phantom really wasn't an ordinary ghost. Maybe he was different for more reasons than just the fact that he was a phantom.

Jake was familiar with duplicates. Well, doppelgängers. He'd made them himself, more than once, until he'd learned his lesson. And he knew about shapeshifting. And a whole lot of other types of magic. And he definitely understood about double lives and lies and everything else.

He'd have to talk to Fu. He needed to ask Marty. He'd know, if anyone did. The guy was the Grim Reaper, after all. Even if he hadn't been the one to reap Danny, he should still know something.

* * *

Professor Hans Rotwood could not stop smiling.

He'd lost five cameras in this whole fiasco. Five cameras that he'd taken out to the park had been returned to him by Jake's grandfather well beyond repair, the film within ruined in each and every case. But his visit to the park earlier had paid off, and he'd found the sixth and final camera crammed into a bush. The same one, he suspected, that the ghosts had knocked him into. Well, one of the many bushes. But the point still stood.

While the camera itself had not survived, with a broken lens and destroyed control panel that wasn't worth the trouble it would take to repair, _the film within was unharmed_.

He'd had to find another camera and transfer the tape, but it played. It played on the camera, it played when transferred to his computer, and it played on the discs he'd made. At long last, he had proof of the existence of magical creatures.

Most importantly, he had proof of the existence of magical creatures and a certain Jake Long was not aware of it.

The video was, unfortunately, grainy, and the audio was fainter in spots than he would have liked, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. There was enough light, enough clarity of sound, to make it very clear that the six ghosts of Shackles Jack's gang, its leader included, had made their appearance. That they'd surrounded him. Overpowered him. Thrown him into the view of the camera, knocking it down. And, if he looked very closely, he could see, between the twigs and leaves, the ghosts flying off.

But that wasn't it. He wasn't humming happily to himself solely because the camera controls had been jammed on 'record', rendering every other function defunct. It wasn't simply because, even though most of the lights he'd set up had also found their ruin at the hands of the ghosts, the moon had cast enough light to see the magical creatures depart. It wasn't even because the lens of the camera had not broken until sometime later that night, when the camera itself had finally come loose from its tenuous perch in the trees and hit the ground.

The tape, when set right at the start, had been empty. Nothing more for him to see than him setting everything up. But with the tape being capable of holding six hours of film, he hadn't missed anything, not like he usually did. He'd had to skip through things initially, and he had to skip through things now, but he had proof of what he'd wanted desperately for over a year now: the existence of dragons.

It wasn't very easy to see, what with the lack of light and obstacles in the camera's field of view, but it was easy enough to tell that a dragon, or at least some sort of giant lizard, was standing where an old man had been a moment before. That the same creature, when it made its second appearance on the tape, was holding a conversation with a dog—a dog which talked back. Talked back, could walk on its hind legs if it desired, could pick things up as if it had opposable thumbs and did so with such apparent ease that it had done so many times before….

He had it.

After so many years, so much time, so much hard work and determination, he had it.

Proof.

Copies and copies of it.

Ghosts. Dragons. Talking dogs. _Magical creatures_.

Copies for his records. One for the Hoboken Scientific Institute. One for the internet. A few to specific organizations who had ridiculed him over the years, to people who had laughed in his face when he'd proposed his ideas or theories. And, of course, copies for the very media organizations who had, only a few days earlier, called him a fraud. He had undeniable, hard-earned, well-deserved evidence. Exactly what they'd called for him to provide.

No one could make a mockery of him now, for he would be the first mythobiologist to offer definitive proof to those outside their circle of schooling. Proof that couldn't be written off as something else. Proof of the existence of another world that had been hidden from them for so long, proof that there was more on this earth than just what there appeared to be. Proof of the truth in all the tales and folklore and myths that everyone else scorned. Proof that some fairytales were indeed real. Proof.

And it was all thanks to him, Professor Hans Rotwood.

* * *

To Danny's credit, he didn't seem to have any trouble finding the electronics shop. And he didn't seem to have much trouble carrying her and the Ghost Catcher, either. But then again, she wouldn't expect him to. If he had, she'd have been terribly worried.

"Exactly how long have you spent as Phantom?" Jazz asked as Danny set her down.

Danny shrugged. "We can figure it out later, Jazz. We've got more important things to deal with now. Like the other ghosts."

Deflection. Typical. But he did have a point; the other ghosts _were_ more important at the moment. But still…. "Shouldn't we wait for Jake? You gave him the Fenton Cuffs."

"He'll be along soon," Danny said dismissively. "He can fly, too, remember."

"Even when he's pretending to be normal?"

"I think he's betting that you won't figure out how long it would take the normal way."

"If you say so," Jazz murmured, thinking this was not something to fight. She didn't know Jake, after all. But if he was anything like Danny…. Well, if he was, she could see him banking on other people's ignorance, easy acceptance, and—on occasion—lack of desire to question something that doesn't seem important.

There was a reason so few people in Amity Park knew Danny's secret, after all.

"Gramps?" Danny called as he entered the shop, carrying the Fenton Ghost Catcher with him. "Fu? Anyone here?"

"In the back!"

Jazz shot a questioning glance at Danny. "Fu Dog," he said, putting the Ghost Catcher down.

Right. The _other_ thing she had to get used to. Heaven help her, if she hadn't had proof of ghosts, she would never have believed any of this. Somehow, it was simpler to believe in dragons than talking dogs.

But the magical world was, apparently, existent. And magical. In all its logic-defying ways.

It was times like these that she could actually understand how her parents had not yet figured out Danny's secret. You can never reach the right conclusion when you never consider it to be a possibility in the first place.

"I brought Jazz Fenton with me," Danny continued as he walked forward. "But it's fine, guys. She can keep a secret. Trust me. I wouldn't have brought her if I didn't trust her with my life. Er, afterlife."

An elderly man—Gramps, Jazz assumed—appeared from behind the curtain that led to the back of the shop just as Danny reached it. He looked at Danny, then at her, and then back at Danny before pronouncing, "You told her."

"What? Uh, no, of course not. I wouldn't…." Danny's denial died on his lips at the look on the old man's face. He sighed. "Okay, maybe I told her a little bit."

"I think he told me the gist of everything," Jazz interjected, figuring she might as well be frank. It wouldn't look particularly good for her if she started off with a lie. "But we can deal with that later. Phantom's right; right now, the most pressing problem is the ghosts I'm assuming you have in the back room."

Ignoring what sounded like a mumble of, "The dragon council will not be pleased," Jazz pushed her way past Gramps to see what they were dealing with.

She recognized the Fenton Collapsible Cage immediately. It housed four ghosts and was adjusted for the size. On a desk at the back stood a thermos which, remembering what Danny had told her on the flight over, Jazz could only assume was the makeshift one he'd used to catch three of the ghosts. And the remaining ones…. The two people being overshadowed were, like the first ghosts, being kept in a cage. Though it wasn't FentonWorks technology, it seemed no less effective. The ghosts were unable to phase through it and escape—or even leave their hosts, supposedly, which is why Danny had wanted the Ghost Catcher.

Still, she couldn't stop her attention from being drawn to the dog that sat on a chair, talking on a cell phone, as if that were the most normal thing in the world. "…can't make any promises…uh…woof? Woof woof?"

Jazz smiled. "Fu Dog, I'm guessing," she said, offering her hand. "Jazz Fenton."

"I'll see what I can do," Fu said into the phone. He promptly hung up and looked at Jazz's hand. "I don't shake," he said bluntly.

"Oh." Jazz flushed, dropping her hand.

Fu laughed; Danny and Gramps, who had entered the room, also snickered. Well, Danny snickered; Gramps merely smiled. "Kidding," Fu said, reaching forward to grab her hand. "Nice to meet you. You here to help with the ghosts?"

Jazz nodded. "I'm your Fenton representative."

"And what of your brother?" Gramps asked. "I understood you were both friends of Danny's."

Jazz glanced at Danny and gave an apologetic shrug. "Mom and Dad aren't exactly Danny Phantom's greatest fans. Danny's keeping them preoccupied. Besides, if he steers clear, then we don't have to go over the whole 'Danny Fenton, Danny Phantom' thing."

"Must get confusing," Fu agreed. He glanced at Danny, asking, "Jake far behind you?"

"Probably not," Danny said. "He's got the Fenton Cuffs, but I'm hoping we won't need them."

"But we're going to play it safe," Jazz added, "so we're going to wait. Right, Phantom?"

Danny rolled his eyes, ignoring her. "The plan," he continued, "will be to dislodge our friends over there from their hosts."

"Your last little trick didn't work," one of them sneered. The two men were tied up, despite being in a cage, but they weren't gagged—probably so that they could sip some water from the straws in the bottles that had been left for them. It was no good, after all, to weaken the men the ghosts had overshadowed. But, thankfully, her little brother had the sense not to spill the entire plan in front of them. Not in specifics, at least.

He didn't take the bait, either, and ignored the ghost—possessed human, more like—as effortlessly as he'd ignored her.

Practice did make perfect after all.

"Jazz has a few things with her in case anything gets out of hand, so I'll let her show you how they work. She's got enough for everyone, I think." Danny rubbed the back of his neck and looked at Gramps. "You're not, uh, mad that I said something to her, are you?"

"It's not entirely his fault," Jazz cut in. "I forced it out of him. I knew he was keeping something from me. Things didn't add up, and I wanted the whole story."

Gramps sighed. "We will manage," he said, and Jazz wasn't sure, entirely, what that meant. It worried her a bit—for all she knew, these guys had something up their sleeves that meant they could wipe her mind—but she was determined not to think about it. She needed to help Danny first.

"Come on," Jazz said. "I'll show you how to work the equipment while we wait for Jake to catch up with us."

* * *

Jake was still on the phone with Fu when Danny and Jazz arrived at the shop. Fu had taken the time to call out earlier, thinking it was just Danny, since Jake hadn't actually told him that Danny was bringing along a guest—mainly because he'd had other things on his mind. But Fu had promised to get in touch with Marty, so Jake was hopeful that he'd get some straight answers.

Following assumptions before had been leading him down the wrong path. Three people knew his secret, Phantom had said. And then Fenton had confirmed that four knew it. Specifically, Phantom's four trusted friends. But Jake was beginning to suspect that Phantom's so-called 'camouflage trick' was a bit more…. Well, a bit more detailed than that, to put things nicely.

Jake wasn't really sure that he wanted to think about what it meant if his growing suspicions were right.

He grabbed the discarded boards and helmets before finding a secluded place to dragon up and fly to the shop. His wing stung a bit, but thanks to Fu's salve, it worked fine. He probably should've killed more time before showing up, but he was pretty sure this was Jazz Fenton's first time in New York. And distances seemed a lot shorter when you actually went as the crow flies.

Besides, she was probably preoccupied with Shackles Jack and the rest of the ghosts. For all that she was comfortable around Danny Phantom, these ghosts weren't the same, and no matter what her parents did for a living, it would have to take some getting used to.

And, anyway, if he understood what Spud had been saying about Amity Park's ghosts, they were more like Danny in the first place. Jazz might not have encountered this type before. If she had, she probably hadn't been the one to deal with the problem. More likely than not, that would have fallen to her parents. So as much as she wanted to help, she would undoubtedly have her hands full. Her mind would be on other things.

He hoped.

When he went inside the shop, he was forced to wonder whether he should have even bothered trying to be subtle. Fu certainly wasn't. Jazz was showing him how to use some kind of gun thing. Fenton tech, Jake figured, if the green F emblazoned in a fireball on the side was anything to go by.

Evidently Fu's earlier transition during the phone call to his outdated version of dog speak had been because Jazz had interrupted, not just briefly appeared in the back room. And she must've caught him at it if he'd just out and given up and went back to talking normally.

This suspicion was confirmed when Jazz glanced at him and asked, "Good flight?"

Jake sighed, dropping the stuff inside the shop. "Danny told you, huh?" He wasn't sure how betrayed he felt by that; Jazz would be a lot more help to them now that she knew, true, and he might've ended up telling her anyway, but this was _his_ secret, and Danny shouldn't have said anything. Not without at least asking him.

But he had, and now….

"I wouldn't have guessed it," Jazz said quietly. "I hope my knowing doesn't complicate things for you. Your grandfather doesn't seem too happy about it." She glanced over her shoulder before adding, "Phantom's with him. Getting the run down on that cage you guys have back there."

"Don't worry about the old man," Fu said, firing a blast off with the gun. A green streak shot past Jake's left ear and singed the wall behind him. "He'll come round. You're a special case."

"Because I'm Phantom's friend?" Jazz guessed.

Jake snorted, pushing his mixed feelings of Phantom aside for now. He could deal with them later. "Probably because you're aware of magical creatures already," he said.

"Jake's right," Fu confirmed. "It'll give you an edge, but you still might have to fight for it."

A frown crossed Jazz's face. "Fight for it?" she repeated.

Jake figured he'd better take this one. "When Trixie and Spud—my friends—found out about me, the dragon council decreed that they should forget it. Fu made a special potion and everything. But I couldn't give it to them, and, I dunno. Gramps must've stuck up for me, 'cause they got off my back about it."

Jazz looked shocked. "Oh," finally escaped her. Then, "What about Phantom?"

"He's in the clear," Jake said. "I mean, technically, a ghost counts as a magical creature, so he's part of this world already. Like me."

"Like you indeed," Jazz murmured, so quietly that Jake hardly heard her. He probably wasn't meant to. When she continued, it was in a louder voice. "The Fenton Cuffs are in case things go wrong. The Fenton Ghost Catcher—" here she pointed to the dream catcher-like contraption Danny had brought "—should expel the ghosts from the humans. Phantom's used it before when ghostly energy takes over a person and can't be knocked out like an overshadowing ghost usually can. But if it doesn't work, the Fenton Cuffs will help to neutralize any ghost energy within the humans. Restrict their powers, if you will."

"Their powers are already restricted," Jake said. "Didn't Danny tell you? That's why we can keep them in that cage. They're as powerless as normal humans now."

"But you don't know if they can leave at will," Jazz pointed out. "We're assuming they can't, but if they can, the Fenton Cuffs will prevent that."

"If they could do that, wouldn't they've done it already?"

"Not necessarily. It would depend on their strategy. And, anyway, if we have trouble getting either of them into the Fenton Thermos, we can use it to contain them. I'll work the thermos and the wrist ray. Fu's got the ectogun and I already showed your grandfather how to use the lipstick—"

"Lipstick?"

"Laser lipstick, if you will," Jazz said. "It shoots a finer beam than the ectogun, anyway."

"Right." Maybe seeing the Fenton's ghost-hunting equipment inventory wouldn't be such a bad idea after all. If he ever ran into any more ghosts, Trixie and Spud could use some of this stuff. "And me?"

"Danny will have the thermos your friend made as a backup," Jazz said. "He'll be trying to weaken the ghosts enough, just like us, to ensure that they can't resist the pull of the thermos. But if things get out of hand, you'll have to step in and get them in the handcuffs."

Jake had the feeling he wouldn't get a straight answer if he asked exactly how he was supposed to do that, so he merely nodded. He probably had this job because he, unlike Jazz, could actually touch the ghosts. Assuming Jazz knew she couldn't.

Whatever. The sooner they got this over with, the sooner he wouldn't have to worry about Shackles Jack and his gang, and the sooner he could confirm—or disprove—what he'd figured out about Danny Phantom. "Ready when you are," Jake said, pulling the first set of handcuffs from his pocket.


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: Sorry for the wait on this chapter, folks. The update schedule will be a bit rough for a while, but bear with me and I'll see you through to the end of the story.

* * *

Things went more smoothly than Danny had been expecting.

Fu Dog had released the cage long enough for him to pull the first ghost—Shackles Jack, at Jake's request, given that he would probably have a better chance at evading them if he saw how it worked with Solitary Sam—out of its range before it snapped back on. The ghost had been working at loosening his bonds, and the guy had actually made a break for it.

Gramps, however, was a lot faster than he looked, and he'd transformed and blocked Shackles Jack's path. Fu and Jazz had their respective weapons trained on him. They knew it wouldn't be very effective to fire at an overshadowing ghost, but Shackles Jack didn't, and he acted accordingly. But Jake, also in dragon form, was blocking the other exit.

Danny had anticipated the next move, too. When Shackles Jack dove for the controller that kept the cage in place, he swung the Fenton Ghost Catcher into the ghost's path. The burly man barely made it through, but make it he did. It was only then, when poor Mr. Morton was lying unconscious on the floor, that Danny got his first good look at Shackles Jack.

And then he shot him with an ectoblast.

And then, well, things had devolved from there. Shackles Jack was fast—and strong for a ghost that didn't seem to have more than the basic ghost abilities. He seemed to be permanently intangible to ordinary objects unless he wanted to interact with them, like Danny had understood him to be, but he still got nailed every time he got in the way of a blast from a Fenton invention. That being said, there were still quite a number of broken things in the back and singed walls, but Danny managed to cut him off whenever he tried to just go through a wall, and it wasn't too long before Jazz managed to suck him into the thermos.

She'd even been able to miss _him_, which was impressive, for her. He remembered every single time he'd been sucked inside a Fenton Thermos courtesy of his big sister.

Still, Shackles Jack's defeat was enough to silence the jeering from Solitary Sam and the ghosts in the FentonWorks cage. He hadn't really wanted to suck those ghosts into Spud's thermos on the off chance that it wasn't nearly as durable as the ones his parents invented. He'd been happy to get three ghosts in there the first time and hadn't cared to push his luck.

Until now, it hadn't been the greatest.

But Solitary Sam, unlike Shackles Jack, hadn't been loosening his bonds. Comparatively, it was easy to get him through the Fenton Ghost Catcher. Danny just had to toss him through the ring. Like before, Jazz was ready with the thermos and he was well in the clear.

Jake caught his father and laid him carefully on the floor. Both dragons returned to human form as Jazz transferred the four ghosts from the Collapsible Cage to the Fenton Thermos. With practiced ease, she dismantled the cage and set it aside. Danny landed next to her. "Give me the thermos," he said. "I'll keep it and sneak it into the Assault Vehicle later." He glanced at Jake and added in a quieter voice, "Maybe…talk to them. Reassure them. Do what you normally do."

Jazz smiled. "I've got it covered," she assured him.

Danny smiled as he took the thermos from her. "Thanks, Jazz." For all that he sometimes dearly wished he was an only child, he was glad to have her as his big sister. And the smile that remained on Jazz's face told him that she knew it and that she loved him, too.

* * *

Fu didn't sneak off immediately after all the fun was over. But once Jazz Fenton had started explaining to Jake and the old man about the nature of overshadowing, he'd ducked into the front of the shop. Since Jake had mentioned his suspicions about Danny, Fu couldn't help but wonder if he might be right. He hadn't met Danny Fenton, but he trusted Jake's judgement.

Besides, for all that he was well aware that they knew very little about phantoms, he'd thought they would've known more than they did.

"Hey, Marty," Fu said when his old friend answered his call. "Fu here. I need to call in a favour." He went on to explain the situation, and as he'd expected, Marty was curious.

He would be. The guy was the Grim Reaper, after all. Things like this were part of his territory.

"Swing by any time you get a free moment," Fu added. "I'll be here."

When he sidled back into the back room, things weren't too much different. From the sounds of it, it had been decided that Danny was going to take Mr. Morton home. "Because if Brad's still there," Danny said when the others looked ready to argue, "I'm the only one who can get in and out undetected." Jake would take his father home, and once he was satisfied that Jonathan didn't remember anything, he'd head back to the shop.

School, for today, was out of the question. Jake was probably eternally grateful that he didn't have to deal with Rotwood. Not that Fu thought the man would be turning up to work today anyway, even if it was just for the afternoon. For all that he'd seemed all right after stopping by the shop, he'd still looked pretty beaten up. Everyone deserved a day off once in a while.

Besides, Fu knew as well as Gramps did what Rotwood had been after, and they'd both spent a few very enjoyable moments ensuring that he wouldn't get it.

When Jake and Danny had left with their respective charges, Jazz Fenton glanced at her watch. "Is there somewhere nearby where I could get some lunch?" she asked. "I skipped breakfast."

"There's a great noodle place down the street," Fu said. "Or you can—" He broke off as his phone started to ring. He dug it out of the fold he'd stuffed it into (it was excess fur, _not_ rolls of fat, thank you very much), glanced at it, frowned, and said, "I'd better take this. Get the old man to take you somewhere." Gramps, having overheard, led Jazz out the door. Fu hoped they'd remember to get him some lunch, too, or at least bring him the leftovers. Ordinarily, he'd join them in a heartbeat, but this time….

Flipping the phone open, Fu asked, "Hello? Marty?" What would he want, unless it was to say he couldn't find what he was looking for?

"_You near a television set?"_

"I could be," Fu said, heading over to the nearest one which worked. The street out front was, as usual, devoid of people, so it wouldn't do any harm to turn on the TV by the front desk. The control for that one walked off less frequently than the one in the back, since Jake used it as often as he did but rarely put the control back where he'd found it. "Why?"

"_I'm not sure if you've got trouble with that phantom of yours," _Marty continued as Fu started flipping through the channels, _"but you might not want to antagonize him yet."_

Fu switched to a news channel and, for once, was speechless as he stared at the TV screen. _EVIDENCE OF THE SUPERNATURAL_ ran along the bottom of the screen. Below that, in smaller letters: _Professor Hans Rotwood, principal of Millard Fillmore Middle School, catches ghosts on film and hints that this might be only a glimpse of Manhattan's secrets._

"I gotta tell the old man."

"_You do that. You still want me to drop by today?"_

For a split second, Fu was torn. This was important. They needed to stop this _right now_. They should've stopped it before it got this far. But Jake was right; while they'd been completely open with him, Danny Phantom had refused to tell his secrets, and that could get them into trouble, too. If Jake was right. Which Fu was thinking he might be.

"Yeah," he said. "It won't take you long?"

"_Shouldn't, but I don't want to make any guarantees. This isn't exactly something I've run into before, and it wasn't in the job description."_

"And we're clear that the pranks are on hold until this is sorted out?"

"_I don't joke about the job, Fu."_

Sure he did. He did it all the time. But Fu didn't argue with Marty because he knew what he meant: when something was serious—_important_, _dire_ serious—he didn't fool around. When Haley had been in danger, he hadn't thought twice before helping them save her, doing as much as he could within the restraints of his job. And that compass had really helped them out. They might not have found her in time without it.

"See ya later, Marty. I'll owe you one." And before Fu had even finished putting his phone away, he was out and moving, heading after Gramps and Jazz. He'd let them know before Jake, just to give the kid a bit more time with his father. It was too late to stop Rotwood now anyway, and a few more minutes couldn't do much more harm.

Just as they got over one hurdle, another had to crop up….

Typical. But then again, that was the company he kept, and he really wouldn't trade it for the world.

* * *

The news of a ghost sighting in New York spread quickly through the people setting up for the Paranormal Studies Convention. Some who had seen the grainy feed denounced it instantly as a hoax while others were immediately convinced that this was the proof they'd been looking for. Maddie Fenton, on the other hand, fell into the third camp: the cautious, wait-and-see, don't-jump-to-conclusions-yet one.

To be fair, this was primarily because of her past experience with Rotwood. He'd seemed quite convinced that he'd happened upon a ghost, and initially, she'd had no reason to doubt him. But the ghost he'd described to her had not matched, as far as she could tell, any of the ghosts on the video. And he'd told her about one ghost, not a group of them. He might have found more; he might have fabricated the footage after the press conference fiasco. If this wasn't the first time he'd claimed something, she couldn't bring herself to trust his so-called evidence wholeheartedly without at least meeting him in person.

Jack had no such trouble, and it was all she could do to restrain him and insist that they finish setting up for tomorrow before he raided her carefully organized display for ghost hunting weapons.

"We can't just go off," Maddie pointed out calmly. "The kids won't know where to find us." And while they'd reserved a hotel room for the next few nights, it was still too early to check in. Jack insisted that the kids had their cell phones, that Maddie had the one the kids had insisted they'd get, and that it consequently would be fine.

Were it Amity Park, Maddie would have had no trouble rushing off to investigate. But this wasn't Amity Park, and the ghost sighting had clearly taken place last night at the earliest. The ghosts, if they were smart, would already be long gone.

But Jack had a mind of his own, and he was so insistent that she finally relented. She would stay here and wait for the kids and he would go off and investigate, taking some Fenton Phones with him so they could keep in touch. Personally, she'd be just as happy investigating from here when there was no recent ghost activity in the area. She had Rotwood's home number; if she simply called him, she might be able to get the story straight.

And she might be able to figure out whether he was a fraud or simply being painted with that brush.

* * *

Jake wasn't sure what he was going to tell his dad when he woke up. The man had overlooked magical moments before, but while Jake was rather glad that he wouldn't remember what had happened while being possessed, he wasn't sure how to explain the time lapse. He knew his mom was on the way back from work—Gramps had phoned her, so she'd taken an early lunch even though she hadn't intended on taking a break at all—but she wasn't here yet.

Trouble was, most of Jake's reasons involved things like suspiciously non-existent bumps on the head to explain what he couldn't really explain.

Before he got the chance to come up with anything, though, his phone rang. "Hello?"

"_Hey, kid. You sitting down?"_

Jake's heart sank at the sound of Fu's voice. There was no hint of a joke in it. At least the first words out of Fu's mouth hadn't been telling him that there was a dragon emergency, but he had the distinct feeling he shouldn't get his hopes up. "What's wrong now?"

"_Rotwood filmed the ghosts and sent in the footage to the media."_

"He _what_?" No. No way. "But I thought you guys destroyed his stuff!"

"_We must've missed one. We need to do damage control and fast. Get back to the shop."_

"Aw, man," Jake groaned. He hung the phone up and buried his face in his hands. He just couldn't catch a break.

His dad would probably be on his back about skipping school after this, too.

Unfortunately, he couldn't ignore his responsibility as the American Dragon. And the exposure of the magical world…. He'd worked too hard to protect it, to keep it secret, to have Rotwood blow it now.

He made it to the shop in record time. Fu was there, with Gramps and Jazz Fenton, who looked like they'd just started lunch when they'd heard the news, judging by the boxes of take-out they held. He'd hardly landed and transformed before Danny Phantom returned. From the look on his face, Jake guessed that someone—likely Jazz, since Fu had been on the phone with him—had called.

"We've gotta get Rotwood to retract it," Jake said, "but there's no way he's gonna do that."

"There's an easier way," Jazz pointed out. "Just discredit him."

"We can't really discredit him any more than he has himself," Jake returned. "I mean, the guy just tried to hold a press conference to expose ghosts on Tuesday. If he hadn't actually had the ghosts on tape, they would never have listened to him."

"Exactly," Jazz said. "It's on tape. We just need to prove that it's falsified."

"But it's not. Right?" Jake looked at Fu. "It's the stuff from the park, isn't it? When he let Shackles Jack and everyone else out of the Mugwomp Cup?"

Fu nodded. "That's right," he confirmed.

"But people aren't going to give him the benefit of the doubt if he's cried wolf before," Jazz retorted. "Phantom, back me up on this."

"She should know," Danny put in. "She studies people's behaviours way too much for her own good."

Right. Budding psychologist, Danny had told them. Jake glanced at Gramps, who caught his look and said, "We cannot hope for something we cannot guarantee now. The situation is dire, and we have no way of influencing the experts that will be called upon to analyze the footage."

"Sure you do," Jazz said softly, glancing at Danny. "You just finished sorting out some trouble with overshadowing ghosts."

"But we don't even know who they're going to get!" Jake protested. He'd give her this much; it was a good idea. It probably would have even worked. "We'd be better off having Danny overshadow Rotwood and pulling out. You can't tell me that's not the easiest thing to do."

"But that would just be temporary," Jazz argued, "and you might end up lending credence to it if someone thinks he backed out because someone else was putting pressure on him. Besides," she added, "with the Paranormal Studies Convention and all the experts in town, there's no question who they'll get if they do their research."

"Oh, crud," Danny moaned. "You're right."

Jake raised his eyebrows, and Jazz explained, "My parents. They're leaders in the field."

"Even when it comes to analyzing film?" Jake asked sceptically.

"Mom's a woman of many talents," Jazz explained. "I'm sure she could do it if she had to. But if we can just convince them that those weren't ghosts on the tape, that it was something else, something fake, then Rotwood won't be able to use that clip—or anything else on that tape, for that matter—to prove his case. It'll be worthless to him."

"But how do you know that they'll get your parents to do this?"

Jazz looked at Danny to answer this question, and he sighed. "The best ghost hunters in the country came to Amity Park a while back when someone put a million dollar bounty on my head, and the one who caught me was Jack Fenton."

"You got caught by a ghost hunter and you're still around?"

"What can I say? Sometimes I do get lucky." Danny shrugged. "But Jazz is right. She usually is. I'll probably have to overshadow Jack."

"What about Maddie?" Jake asked, having heard enough about the Fentons to think that she was the main threat.

"She usually follows Dad's lead," Jazz confided. "And if she doesn't, then it means she already has doubts. Dad's the one who would be out looking for the ghosts right now if he'd heard about it."

Danny's eyes widened. "Oh, crud, that's right. I've gotta go!" Without another word, he turned intangible and flew out of the building.

Jake looked at Jazz, knowing his face was asking her what the heck had just happened. Jazz pursed her lips. "Phantom's betting the news already got to them," she explained. "If he hung around here, you'd probably be meeting Jack Fenton in person again. The Assault Vehicle's equipped with a tracker. He'd pick up on the spike in ectoplasmic energy."

Jake frowned. "But can't he do that camouflage trick of his, then? That's how he hid from them at the convention."

Jazz bit her lip. "I expect so," she admitted after a moment, "but I don't think he wants to take any chances." She got to her feet and tucked the stool she'd been sitting on back behind the counter. "Come on, Jake. Let's head back to the convention grounds. It'll be the quickest way to nip this in the bud. Trust me."

"But what about Danny?"

"I'll call Phantom if we need him," Jazz said, "but he has an uncanny ability of turning up where he's needed. It shouldn't be a problem." She picked up the Ghost Catcher and left the shop, clearly expecting Jake to follow.

Jake, for his part, looked at Gramps and Fu. "Go on, young dragon," Gramps urged. "The seed will not grow if it is never sown."

"We'll do what we can from here," Fu added, "but it sounds like Jazz has this all planned out. It's our best bet."

It was, and Jake knew it, but he couldn't stop himself from wondering if what he'd figured out about Danny Phantom would make this any more difficult.

But that was, as Trixie had told him hardly three days ago, just borrowing trouble. He didn't know anything for sure and wouldn't until Marty dropped by. Until then, he'd pretend things were still normal.

He didn't have any other choice.

* * *

Professor Hans Rotwood delighted in the attention he was receiving—until he caught wind of the first rumours that the video he had produced might have been falsified. Rumours which apparently had been whispered all the while he'd been relishing what he'd thought had been success. "That's absolutely ridiculous!" he'd spluttered when it had first been brought to his attention. "I have offered you solid proof. Do you doubt your own eyes?"

The reply that came back was always along the same lines: "I don't doubt my eyes if I see something for myself, but I do have faith in what can be done with a computer these days."

It was just as well he had not yet released the clip that featured the dragon. It was considerably lower quality, with poor lighting, a portion of the screen blocked by a leaf, and smudges and scratches on the lens. In all likelihood, no one would have even given him the time of day. But he feared that if he did not prove that the footage was real, that he had not falsified a single frame, he would never be able to show anyone else what he had captured.

At this rate, they'd likely have the gall to say that it was all too unclear to be proof of anything.

Unfortunately, fellow mythobiologists would slight him if he kept insisting that what they presumed to be fraudulent footage was unaltered. He would be forced to capture more footage. Clearer footage. What he had now would be no more useful than the blurred picture he'd taken of Mr. Long when he'd first realized there were dragons living in the city, right under his nose.

Perhaps it was just as well that he'd begun sending the film out to the media and had not jumped immediately to sending it to all his contacts or exposing it to the world at large via the internet.

When he was informed that experts would be studying the video, he didn't argue. He offered to give them the original tape, and that was the point that he'd realized that they did not necessarily doubt the authenticity of the film itself but rather its contents. With the way some of them treated him as he began probing deeper, trying to sort things out and prove that he was most certainly not a fraud, it became clear that they thought he had done little better than have a few people dress up in sheets and dash in front of the camera.

When he learned the name of the experts, though, he couldn't help but smile. With the Paranormal Studies Convention in town, most specialists from across the country were in attendance and therefore accessible. That one particular couple from a town a few states away was available was good fortune for the media and, in all likelihood, for him.

Madeline and Jack Fenton had quite a reputation amongst their peers. Anyone not in the business of paranormal studies would not have heard of them or would probably have scoffed if they had, but for those who knew the value of their knowledge, well…. There was no question. They were the top of their field.

However, the Paranormal Studies Convention had not yet officially begun, and therefore he was to wait until tomorrow. Tomorrow, the Fentons would be asked to look at the footage. Tomorrow, they would confirm that it was real. Tomorrow, his name would once again be cleared. Tomorrow, he would finally accomplish his goal.

But tomorrow was not yet here, and he might be able to ensure things went his way if he spoke with the Fentons first. He'd intended to see them later on the weekend, and they were expecting him then, but an earlier little chat could lean the odds in his favour. While he didn't doubt that they'd see the truth of the matter, he didn't want to leave anything to chance. He'd rather play every card he had now before he lost the chance.

With that in mind, Rotwood decided to swing by the convention grounds in hopes that the Fentons would be there. It was easy enough for him to get in—some people recognized him from the broadcast and others were fellow mythobiologists whom he had encountered before—and little trouble to track down the Fentons, who were mercifully already there.

To his relief, the FentonWorks booth was being set up by a woman—presumably, Maddie Fenton—and she was alone. The man with whom he'd spoken over the phone the second time he'd tried their number was blessedly gone. It was much simpler to carry on a civil conversation with someone who could contain their excitement about the topic (or at least keep it down to a reasonable level, which he did).

"Excuse me," Rotwood said, "but are you Maddie Fenton?"

The woman turned, smiled, and nodded. "I am," she confirmed. After a slight hesitation, she asked, "Am I right in assuming that you are Professor Hans Rotwood?"

Rotwood, too, smiled. "You are. If you don't mind, I'd like to take a few moments of your time."

"The ghosts in the park?" Maddie guessed. At Rotwood's nod, she gestured to a chair. "Please, have a seat. I was just telling my son that I'd like to hear your side of the story."

"Your son?" Rotwood repeated, hesitant to sit down now. "If you're busy…."

Maddie shook her head. "He went off to find his sister. They've just come back from lunch, but apparently she got caught up talking with someone about the thesis she's writing on ghost envy." The smile on Maddie's face was a knowing one as she added, "My daughter is more like her father than she'd like to admit, I daresay. Jack is often detained when he begins talking to people about things he is passionate about."

At Maddie's continued insistence, Rotwood sat down. He started telling her his side of the story, the bits he hadn't disclosed to the media or which the media had refused to air. He told her as much as he could without disclosing anything to do with Jake Long and the rest of the magical world. He knew she accepted ghosts; he did not know how she viewed everything else, and he wasn't willing to risk compromising her view of him.

By the end of their conversation, he was certain that she would confirm to the world that he had indeed encountered ghosts in New York City.


	22. Chapter 22

"Hey, Mom," Jazz said, coming up to the FentonWorks booth with Jake in tow. She'd put the Fenton Ghost Catcher down and slid it neatly to the edge of the booth before her mother even noticed. Jake, for his part, froze when he noticed someone else at the booth, but Jazz ignored him.

"Oh, hi, honey," Maddie said. "Did Danny find you?"

Before Jake could open his mouth, Jazz answered, "Yes, but he, uh, had to go to the washroom. He'll be back soon."

"Sweetie, this is Professor Rotwood," Maddie said, gesturing to the man. Jazz fought to keep a grimace off her face as they were introduced and she shook his hand. This was the man who had caught Danny, who had threatened him. This was the man they had to stop.

"Nice to meet you," Jazz said politely.

"Yes. Pleasure." But Rotwood was peering behind her. "Making new friends, Mr. Long?"

Jake apparently didn't bother trying to keep a scowl off his face. "Yes, thanks."

"When you should be in school?"

It was a taunt, Jazz knew, but Jake didn't take the bait. Instead, he shrugged. "Independent study day."

Rotwood raised his eyebrows. "For which class? Certainly not mine."

"Oh, that doesn't really matter, does it?" Jazz interrupted, wanting to head this off before it went too far. To be safe, she switched tactics, saying, "You're the one who released the ghost video, aren't you, Professor Rotwood?"

"He is," Maddie confirmed, "and he was just telling me about it."

Jazz, knowing the best thing for them to do would be to ask questions to find out more about it to see precisely where they stood, did just that. Jake looked uncomfortable, but they needed information, and this was the only way to get it. She wasn't sure if Rotwood had managed to convince Maddie that he had seen a ghost, but the fact that they'd been talking didn't make her feel very good about this.

The exposure of ghosts to the rest of the world seemed a funny thing to worry about when you came from Amity Park, but Jazz was well aware of the fact that ghosts were still largely nothing but things of fiction and fancy outside of her hometown. She knew the importance of keeping secrets—particularly since she'd found out Danny's—and she knew how to keep them without letting others know you had them. The novelty of knowing Danny's secret when her parents did not had worn off quickly, and she'd realized the potential danger of the situation and acted accordingly.

This had caused Danny to complain (only somewhat secretly) about her overprotectiveness, but she was willing to pay that price.

Besides, this was what she did best: gather intelligence. Get information. Find out the facts so she could pass them on, so they could make a plan, so they could pull off whatever they needed to pull off to make things work. To keep things secret. To keep things safe.

She wasn't going to let her little brother down.

* * *

When Jazz had started to ask Rotwood questions, Jake had hoped to learn something. As Maddie had joined that conversation, he'd begun to think that it could be a long one and couldn't help but wonder if he'd get in trouble for shuffling over and leaning on the table. But once it became clear that they'd forgotten about him—or were at least ignoring him—he figured he might as well just sneak off.

He was tempted to phone home to get an update on his dad, but he wasn't sure how that would go over, so he forced himself to wait.

Since Fu and Gramps would obviously be busy, too, that was also out of the question.

"Oh, crud. _He's_ here?"

The words didn't register immediately—probably because the speaker wasn't talking to him—but Jake stopped and made his way back through the crowd, finding none other than Danny Fenton staring in dismay at the FentonWorks booth. "Hey," Jake said.

"Huh?" For a split second, Danny looked startled. Then, "Oh, hi, Jake."

"Your sister said you went to the washroom or something," Jake ventured after a moment, "even though we never ran into you."

Danny was smart enough to know what he was asking. "She was covering for me," he said. "We do it all the time. I was, uh, meeting with Phantom."

"He's here?" Jake asked, looking around.

"He was," Danny said. "And he filled me in. He thinks overshadowing Dad will work. You know, when they get asked to confirm that Rotwood found ghosts. Except," Danny added, glancing back at the FentonWorks booth, "I don't think he thought Rotwood would be talking to Mom."

"This is bad?"

Danny shrugged. "I talked to her earlier. She hadn't actually committed to anything. She'd just wanted to talk to Rotwood to find out what really happened. And she wanted to see if Dad could pick up any residual ectoplasm traces."

"Ectoplasm traces?"

"You know, traces of ghosts. Dissipating energy patterns, in this case, more so than actual ectoplasm."

Jake was silent for a moment. "So he could detect Danny Phantom?"

"Unfortunately," Danny admitted, "but that's not the end of the world. They're already going to be convinced the city's haunted, so they'll be looking to see if there is a group of different traces. Phantom's only one ghost. Was he even near the park where all the other ghosts escaped?"

"I don't think so," Jake answered, feeling slightly relieved. "Look, I kinda wanted to talk to Da—uh, Phantom. Do you know where he is?"

"He's around somewhere, I'm sure," Danny said noncommittally. "Can't it wait?"

"I guess," Jake mumbled, more to himself than to Danny. Suddenly feeling the need to explain himself, he added, "I wanted him to meet a friend of mine. Well, Fu's. I don't know him really well myself. But I was hoping he'd, you know, come and…meet him. His name's Marty."

"You want him to meet Fu's friend Marty," Danny repeated. "Gotcha. I'll tell him if I see him."

It was a dismissal. Jake knew it. But he couldn't make his feet move. Not while he was still thinking about what he _might_ have discovered about Danny Phantom. "Hey, uh, Danny?"

"Yeah?" Danny had already looked away, focussing on the FentonWorks booth again, and hadn't yet turned back.

"Do you talk to Phantom a lot?"

"When we get him stuff, you mean?" Danny sounded somewhat distracted, still not returning his full attention to Jake. "Yeah. Me and Jazz or Sam and Tucker. Sam and Tucker do it a lot. Jazz knows a bunch about what Mom and Dad invent, though. More than I do. I know I should pay more attention—she never stops telling me that—but sometimes it's easier just to let her listen to whatever Mom and Dad are saying and get the short version later."

"Well, that," Jake allowed, "and, you know, other times, too. Just in general."

"Sometimes. Not usually, I guess."

"Because he carries your cell if he needs one?"

"What?" Danny blinked and looked back at him. Then, "Oh, yeah. Right. He's got mine, so it's easier to talk to other people."

The news didn't help Phantom's case in Jake's mind, but he definitely wasn't going to act on it until Marty confirmed his suspicions. "But you help him, right? In terms of fighting and stuff?" If he did—and helped more than his sister—then it could explain the falling-asleep-in-class thing (and skipping it altogether) that Phantom had alluded to earlier, and he _might_ not have mentioned it due to the whole borrowed identity thing.

But Danny just shrugged again. "Honestly? I've only fought beside him once or twice."

"Oh."

"I just mostly help him in other ways," Danny said quickly. "You know, when he's, uh, hiding, I guess. He said something about you calling it a camouflage trick?"

That made more sense and could, potentially, explain Danny's apparently poor track record with school. "Let me guess," Jake said. "You know where he is now but won't point him out to me because he still wants to keep it a secret?"

Danny rubbed the back of his neck. "That obvious, huh?"

"It's okay. I get it, kind of. I know how important it can be to keep a secret. Just…." Jake lowered his voice. "Do his parents _really_ not have a clue who he is? That Danny Phantom is really their son? I mean, I know you said they don't, but you mean they don't even suspect it or anything?"

Danny glanced back to the FentonWorks booth, but Rotwood was still there talking to Mrs. Fenton. "Not as far as I know," he said softly, "but sometimes I have to wonder."

"If they have any inkling, you mean?"

"That," Danny conceded, "and whether it would be better if they did know."

"They'd be happier, wouldn't they? Because he's still around?"

"It's hard to say. Phantom's got a bunch of reasons why he never told them. Not knowing how they'd take it was just one of them." And, quieter still: "And not knowing how he'd deal with it if it went badly is another."

"And probably the general safety issue," Jake said. "More people knowing means more people who might let something slip. Secrets get harder to keep when too many people know them."

"That, too, I guess. And their safety from his enemies. And whether or not they'd let him keep doing what he does. And because, now that it's been so long, it just seems too late to tell them…." Danny trailed off. "There are a bunch of reasons," he repeated. "It's probably best if we just leave it at that."

Danny seemed to be a good friend of Phantom's; he knew how much to say, when to give in to the pushing and when to stop. He was protective. He was caring. A bit defensive and definitely watching out for Phantom's best interests.

Thinking of it that way, Jake could definitely see how Danny and Jazz were brother and sister.

But when he thought of how Phantom talked about Danny, and Danny about Phantom, and, more worrisomely, how easily Danny Phantom had slid himself into Danny Fenton's life….

"Marty's going to be coming by the shop to visit sometime this afternoon," Jake said. "I'm going to keep playing hooky from school for the rest of the day to figure out this thing with Rotwood. Mom and Gramps won't be too happy, but they'll understand." He paused. "Can you tell Phantom to meet me at the shop when he can get away from here?"

Danny smiled. "Consider it done." His head turned away again, back to the FentonWorks booth, and Jake took the dismissal for what it was this time.

After all, while he didn't quite have what he needed, he was close. And he'd figure this out, one way or another, and then he'd…deal with it. If it turned out to be something he had to deal with. He rather hoped it wouldn't be, though. He had enough on his plate with this Rotwood thing….

Of course, speaking of Rotwood—how did Danny Fenton even know who he was?

Oh. Wait. The video Rotwood had released, the one everyone here had probably seen the minute it had come out. Right. Danny had even said he'd talked to his mom about it. Jake shook his head; he was definitely starting to overthink things. He just couldn't get it right, could he? Rushing into things without thinking and getting into trouble because of it, getting things wrong because he thought about them too much…. He'd have to find a happy medium somewhere.

But for now, he'd stop jumping to conclusions and wait until Danny Phantom had met with Marty and Marty had, well, formed his opinion. And if he had to cross that bridge he really hoped he didn't have to cross, he would. Somehow.

* * *

Danny hung back and watched the FentonWorks booth for a long time after Jake had left. He didn't really want to push his luck too much and go interact with Rotwood now, though he knew he might have to if the man didn't leave soon. Jack had already returned, and the three Fentons and Rotwood were undoubtedly still talking about Shackles Jack and the other ghosts like they had been for the past hour. Or maybe they'd moved on to ghosts in general by now. It was hard to tell.

Either way, he waited until it looked like Rotwood was ready to leave before he walked up to them. He was introduced, the length of time it had taken for him to appear forgotten by all but Jazz, and after a few polite words with Rotwood (who, like Jake, had stared at him long and hard before recovering his voice, which was definitely not comforting), Danny managed to pull Jazz aside for a more private conversation. "Learn anything?"

"Enough, I think," Jazz answered. "Want me to fill you in?"

"Later," Danny said. "Jake wants Phantom to meet him back at the shop. Something about meeting up with a friend of Fu's. I'm not really sure what it's about, but it might be important."

Jazz pursed her lips, thinking. "Right," she finally said. "I'll tell Mom and Dad that Jake invited us out for supper with his friends to tell _them_ about ghosts and that I declined so I can get down a few of the mental notes I've made for my thesis." She gave him a quick smile. "If they protest, I'll point out that it would have been rude to refuse, given that Jake was just returning the favour and that he appeared genuinely interested in ghosts and that you have your cell phone in case you do happen to run into any sort of trouble. Besides, someone your age needs to make new friends—"

"Jazz," Danny growled warningly.

"—and the interaction is good for you," Jazz concluded. "And so on and so forth. I can go on for as long as I need to."

"Believe me, I know," Danny muttered.

Jazz made a face. "I'll write down what I think you need to know, all right? But the general consensus is this: Dad's convinced Rotwood saw a bunch of ghosts, and Mom is, too, but she's not sure that he really did catch them on tape. You know that thing she does when she doesn't actually agree but she makes a point of never outright disagreeing? She was doing that throughout the entire conversation. So they'll be prepared to tell the world that ghosts are real. You just need to make sure that they make it very clear that Rotwood's evidence is inconclusive."

"So I overshadow Dad again," Danny said, grateful that his father, who had been able to throw off overshadowing ghosts before, was always unaware when he was taken over by Danny. According to Jazz, it might have something to do with similar genetic makeup and whatnot, since Jack's body would not immediately recognize Danny as foreign and therefore a threat and try to throw him off. Danny, frankly, figured he didn't need to know the reason behind it right now so long as he knew it worked.

Jazz hesitated, then agreed, saying, "Probably."

Danny arched an eyebrow. "Probably?"

"Well, you know how things like this usually go," Jazz said. "Dad will start it off, blathering about ghosts, and Mom will cut him off when the time comes. You're better off trying to overshadow him partway through the interview."

Danny groaned. "Why can't they just issue a statement or something?"

Jazz chuckled. "When has Dad ever turned down an opportunity to have an audience to talk to about ghosts?"

"Point taken," Danny conceded reluctantly. "Look, I'll talk to you when I get back, okay? I'm going to head to the shop."

"All right. Just…watch your step, okay, Danny? I'm worried about you."

"You're _always_ worried about me," Danny pointed out. "Besides, I'm with friends."

"I know, but—"

"It'll be fine," Danny cut in, giving her a quick smile. "Just keep doing what you're doing, okay? I'll be back after supper."

Ignoring Jazz's parting words—_Be careful anyway!_—Danny slipped back to the washrooms where he could transform in peace. It probably wasn't the smartest thing to go ghost where everyone was setting up for what was essentially a gathering of ghost hunters, but from what he'd seen, his parents were still the biggest threat in the room, and he dealt with them every day. The Guys in White were likely his next biggest concern, but since they weren't actually declaring themselves as the Guys in White and going about guns ablazing, he figured he'd be safe enough.

Everyone was already at the electronics shop when Danny arrived. He was a bit—okay, really—surprised when he saw the guy who had to be Marty in what was essentially a classic Grim Reaper's outfit, complete with scythe. He was less surprised to learn that Marty _was_ the Grim Reaper. (Well, _a_ Grim Reaper. Danny was pretty sure he wasn't the only one, not if he had time to drop by for a visit or whatever this was.)

The introductions didn't take too long. Marty, apparently, hadn't met too many ghosts despite his job, though he'd met more than everyone else. Danny rather hoped that this didn't put him at too much of a disadvantage. He'd been relying heavily on the 'different kind of ghost' card with Fu and the Longs. If Marty had any inkling that he wasn't a normal ghost, wasn't like the rest of the phantoms out there, then he didn't give any indication of it.

The odd joke that was cracked made things less awkward, but Danny couldn't hide the fact that this entire meeting was _really_ uncomfortable.

Part of it was the fact that he could be discovered as being different, but a bigger part than Danny wanted to admit was the fact that Marty was the Grim Reaper.

He hadn't thought he could get much closer to death than he already had, but shaking Marty's hand (and, at his request, pulling his finger, which had come off in Danny's hand) had made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and set his skin crawling. And, despite being in ghost mode, he couldn't suppress his shivers. It wasn't like his ghost sense was acting up, more like….

Well, to be perfectly honest, it felt like his instincts were screaming at him to get away, to put as much distance between him and Marty as possible. It was all he could do not to bolt, and the longer he was here, the stronger the feeling got. The guy was funny, sure, but he was dangerous. He had to be. That scythe wasn't just for show. It was _sharp._

And even though it was leaning against the wall on the other side of the room, Danny couldn't stop his eyes from wandering back to it.

Why had Jake wanted him to meet this guy, anyway?

A burst of laughter from Fu and Marty. "That's nothing to the time I got hung up in Mesopotamia," Fu argued when the laughter had subsided. "There was this one thing that always got me…."

It was, as Jake had said, a visit. More specifically, it was a visit between two old friends. Jake was enduring it, too, Danny noticed, but Gramps was at the front of the shop to 'tend to potential customers'.

Danny hadn't heard the chime above the door go yet, but he was more than willing to leave on the pretence of helping.

Jake finally seemed to realize that this wasn't going to change, since he jabbed his thumb in the direction of the front of the shop and raised his eyebrows. Danny practically sprang off his seat and flew into the next room, and he had to make a conscious effort to stop from going any further. When Jake followed him into the room, he looked apologetic. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't know they'd start talking about the old days."

Danny couldn't suppress a shiver and rubbed his arms, even though he wasn't really cold. "It's okay," he said automatically. "I just…." He trailed off, glancing back at the room. What could he say? He couldn't face the Grim Reaper? He hated the thought of being so close to death? He was supposed to have faced it all already.

"It's my fault," Jake said. "I kind of wanted company, and I thought you'd get along with Marty seeing as, well, you know."

Danny knew. He was supposed to be dead. He'd learned enough to know that Marty wasn't, but they still had things in common, what with the whole exposure-to-death thing. But what he didn't get was that slight change of tone in Jake's voice, the one that Danny would never have recognized a year ago, the one that he only recognized now because he heard himself using it so often.

There was a lie buried in that truth somewhere.

Danny sighed. It was probably nothing. This Rotwood thing had him on edge. He wasn't a fan of overshadowing his parents, and even though he didn't have a whole lot of confidence in most of the people who had shown up for the Paranormal Studies Convention, he still knew he was taking a risk every time he did anything around there. He couldn't look Jazz in the eye without being reminded of it.

"I'm going to check in on the Fentons," Danny said, jumping on the only excuse he could think of to get out of here. "I want to see if Jazz has come up with anything to help for tomorrow." He rubbed the back of his neck, then asked, "How's your dad doing?"

"All right," Jake answered. "Considering what happened, I mean. You were right; he doesn't remember anything. Mom was with him for a while, but she called me earlier and said she left him at home in bed to recover."

"From?"

Jake shrugged. "Being sick. Your guess is as good as mine. I think Mom let him make his own assumptions. Flu or something similar, I'm assuming." After a moment, he asked, "Are you going to be back at my place or not now that the Fentons are in town?"

"I'll come by your place for supper," Danny said, "and then I think I'll crash in the Assault Vehicle or something. I want to shadow the Fentons fairly closely so I can pull things off tomorrow without anyone noticing."

"You're giving up a bed for a vehicle?" Jake raised his eyebrows. "That can't be comfortable. I mean, I've seen you, and you actually sleep. You know it's cool if you stay at my place, right?"

That was a different tune from earlier in the week, Danny noted absently. "Yeah. I just want to play it safe."

"And safe is _closer_ to the ghost hunters?"

Danny smirked. "Believe me, if I hide right under their noses, they don't even see me."

"Well, you know best, I guess."

"Trust me," Danny said. "It's safe enough for me. I've probably spent more time observing them than they have me." That was especially true if he counted the time from before the accident, but even afterwards, it was still true. If his parents ever turned up at a ghost sighting, he was quick to change back. Plus, he had Jazz nattering to him about not spending extraneous time as Danny Phantom in case they ever caught him off guard. He still did it, for a variety of reasons, but not as much as he might have if she wasn't constantly warning him about it.

Now was the exception to the rule, the time he spent the majority of his days in ghost mode. Sure, since he'd started pulling the partial transformations, he'd been splitting the difference and consequently not been exhausted when he was simply Danny Fenton, but he always felt more Phantom than Fenton when he was trying to cut things down the middle.

Except for the first time, when the partial transformation had been uncontrollable and he'd been stuck with Dash. Then, every time he'd gotten closer to Fenton, he'd gotten more worried. But this was different. He wasn't about to blow his secret identity this time.

He hoped.

Danny glanced once more towards the back room and couldn't help but shudder. For all he knew, he'd already blown it.

"I'm gonna go," Danny said, gesturing in the general direction of the door. "See you later." With a wave to Jake and a nod to Gramps, who had been quietly watching them from over the top of some book he was pretending to read, Danny started out. He did plan to go to Jazz, just briefly, to get an update on things, if only because Jake would likely ask him what he'd found out later, but he was mostly focussed on getting away.

Marty seemed like a really nice guy. He was just the Grim Reaper, and for some reason Danny couldn't explain, he could hardly stand to be in the same building as him. It was a ghost thing. He knew it. He just wasn't sure what it was.

Or why he even got it, really. Ghosts—at least ghosts who were impressions of post-human consciousness—had already been reaped, hadn't they? They just hadn't 'crossed over'. But maybe that was part of the reaping process. Maybe the Grim Reaper was supposed to make sure the soul or whatever it was that made up a ghost made it to the next part, whatever that was. Essentially, made sure that nothing remained behind. That there was nothing left to become a ghost.

Maybe it was a survival instinct of sorts that was screaming at him to get very far away very quickly.

Whatever. He could figure this out later. Now, he was better off focussing on making sure he could pull off overshadowing his dad tomorrow during the inevitable interview.

* * *

A/N: I can't imagine Danny would find meeting the Grim Reaper (even one as seemingly harmless as Marty) a pleasant experience, and I expect it was only his friendship with Jake that kept him rooted there as long as he was…. *grins* Thanks to everyone who has been reading and reviewing this story.


	23. Chapter 23

A/N: Among other things, this chapter is the one which explains the story's title, although I'm quite sure that's not the reason most of you have been waiting for it. Do tell me what you think of it if you've the time.

* * *

Jake stared at the door for a moment after Danny had left, then glanced back at Gramps. "This was a bad idea, wasn't it?"

Gramps looked at him in silence for a moment before saying, "What did you learn?"

Jake shrugged. "That ghosts and grim reapers don't get along? I dunno. I'm more interested in what Marty can tell me."

"Will it matter?"

"It does if it is what I think it is, G," Jake said. "You know that. I can't let this go on if…."

Gramps was smiling. "Do what you feel you must, young dragon."

Jake sighed. "Learning experience again?"

"It is better for you to learn on your own than for me to tell you," Gramps reminded him. "You will do well in this if you trust yourself."

"I trust myself," Jake muttered. "I'm just not sure anymore if I can trust him." Pushing his way into the back again, he interrupted the conversation between Marty and Fu. When they noticed him and stopped talking, he looked at Marty and asked, "Could you tell?"

"I can't give you what you want to hear, kiddo," Marty said.

"So you can't tell?"

Marty shook his head. "Not that. I could tell easily enough. So could he, if his absence is any indication. He's still anchored here."

Jake frowned. "But aren't all ghosts? I mean, that's what a ghost is, isn't it?"

"I mean he's still attached," Marty clarified.

"He hasn't been reaped?" Fu asked, surprised.

Jake raised his eyebrows. "But he's _dead_, yo. How can he not have been reaped?"

"It doesn't happen often," Marty acknowledged, "but it can happen. He must've gotten away. Fallen through the cracks, so to speak, and hid there. Once he actually died, the compass of mine that you used before would be of no use, and we don't have anything to track ghosts specifically." He stretched, popping a few joints out of place that he easily snapped back into their proper spots. "This is just another reason why we need one."

"So what is he, then?"

"For all intents and purposes, he's still a ghost. A phantom. He just hasn't crossed over. My guess is that he found something to keep him here. He's got to draw his strength from something."

Oh. That…wasn't good. "So he's got to feed off something, you mean?"

"Essentially," Marty replied. "If he didn't, he'd be a lot weaker than he is. Fu said he spends a lot of time in this world, right? If he's not spending the majority of his time in the ghost dimension, then he has to have a food source of some sort out here. Something to stabilize him. Give him energy. It doesn't have to be a big thing, but that's why ghosts are sometimes said to haunt objects instead of places. This phantom of yours is tied to something."

Jake tried to ignore the pit that had formed in his stomach. "Any idea how long a ghost can last without exposure to his, uh, food source? If he, you know, came from the Ghost Zone?"

"Can't answer that one, kid. It depends on the ghost, its reserves, and the proximity of the object that it's using to keep itself here."

"Well, take a ghost like Danny."

Marty looked at him for a moment, and Jake knew that Marty knew exactly what he was asking. "He was stable," Marty answered, "and energized. If he's been out of his home dimension for—how long did you say?"

"Since Sunday," Jake replied softly.

"If he's been out for that long, he shouldn't have been in as good condition as he was. He's been feeding."

"He normally haunts Amity Park," Jake said slowly. "So if he's been feeding here…."

"Then he's got his main food source here," Marty finished. "Sorry, kid."

The Fentons, and everything they had brought, were the only things in the entire city from Amity Park—excluding the stuff that had been sold to Rotwood, of course, but Jake was willing to bet that those had been made _after_ Danny Phantom's death. So no wonder Phantom had wanted to go back to them. No wonder he kept making excuses to be near them. He _depended_ on them. He needed them to survive in this world.

Well…. He didn't need _all _of them.

Jake groaned. He'd _really_ wanted to be wrong. "You're _sure_?"

"As sure as I can be," Marty responded.

"Aw, man." This was _not_ what he needed. Phantom had been so, well, helpful. To find out that he was….

"You'll have to be careful, you know," Marty said. "If you cut him off abruptly, you'll as good as kill him."

"But he's a ghost. He's already dead. He can't be killed."

"As good as," Marty repeated. "In his eyes, at least. Why do you think he ran from me?"

Great. Things just had to get more complicated. "So what am I supposed to do, then?"

"Play it by ear," Marty suggested, "and don't act until you know you're right."

"But if I am?" At this point, Jake highly doubted he was wrong.

"Talk to him. Try to get him to move on. Maybe see if there's something else he can fixate on. That won't be easy for him, but it can be done. There are a couple other options. Fu probably knows as many as I do after all the reading he's been doing."

Talk to him? How was he supposed to talk to him? "Okay," Jake said, even though he didn't know what he was going to do. "Thanks."

"No problem, kid. Just take it easy. You don't know how he'll react when he finds out."

Jake could hear the unspoken warning: it might not be pretty. And he knew it could easily be true. Phantom was powerful, and he was careful and in control, but Jake hadn't seen him angry. Not yet. And if he wasn't careful, he would. He'd have to, to do what he needed to.

It was going to be hard, but he had to do it.

He was the American Dragon. It was his responsibility.

* * *

"For goodness' sake, Danny, answer your phone!" Jazz hissed. But, as before, it cut straight to voicemail. As before, she hung up, counted to ten, and tried again. Surely he'd realize he'd turned it off soon and—

Actually, knowing Danny, it had probably finally died. Jazz bit her lip, glanced over to her parents who were gathered around the phone, and spun on her heel to try to find a Fenton Phone. She knew Danny had had access to them. He should be (but likely wasn't) wearing one, but she had to give it a try.

She'd been thinking the media would wait until tomorrow to speak to her parents, but someone, it seemed, had jumped the gun. Been determined to get the story in any way possible—over the phone, in this case—on the (correct) assumption that her parents had already seen the video and formed an opinion. Someone wanted the story, even a story like this one.

And Danny wasn't here.

"Come on," Jazz murmured, digging through her things. She smiled and sent up a quick prayer when her searching fingers found a Fenton Phone. Putting it on and activating it, she said, "Danny? Do you copy?"

Nothing.

Oh, she was going to kill him if she didn't get in touch with him soon. She could only influence her parents so much. And they were losing ground. The interviewer, whom she could hear over the tinny speakerphone of her parents' cell phone, was getting antsy. She was trying to steer the conversation (currently led by Jack) from ghosts in general to the ghosts Rotwood had allegedly recorded.

"I spoke with Professor Rotwood earlier," Maddie said at the interviewer's prompting. "He was certainly enthusiastic and wholly believes he encountered the ghosts he claims to have seen."

"_But?"_ The interviewer seemed hopeful.

"Jack found no traces when searching the city for evidence," Maddie began, "but it is quite possible that the traces have already degraded."

"The ghosts would've been weak ones," Jack said, jumping back into the conversation. "Weak ghosts tend to have more unstable ecto-signatures, making tracking harder…."

Jazz closed her eyes, hoping she could depend on her father's ability to talk a lot about what he loved and put off answering the interviewer's burning questions for just a little bit longer. There had to be some way to contact Danny short of actually going to look for him. She'd left him messages, which would be no good if the battery in his cell phone had died. She couldn't reach him via the Fenton Phones. She could always tie a message to the Booo-merang again, she supposed. At this rate, it might be her only viable option.

When she opened her eyes, however, she saw Danny dashing around the corner and skidding to a stop, easily recognizable as her little brother. She saw his eyes widen as he realized Jack and Maddie were on the phone, and he was next to her in no time flat. "What's going on?" he asked.

"Newsperson eager for a story," Jazz explained. "I thought they'd wait. I didn't think anyone would try phoning the convention centre before tomorrow on the off chance that we were here and talk their way through to getting Mom and Dad's personal number." She closed her eyes briefly and began recounting what she'd heard so far.

Danny, when she looked at him again, was worried. "They're not going to call tomorrow then, are they?"

"Not if this story breaks tonight," Jazz answered. "I highly doubt it, anyway. It would be old news by then. Unless they actually do confirm that Rotwood caught ghosts."

"I'd better go," Danny said, glancing at Jack and Maddie. "I probably shouldn't push my luck."

Jazz nodded and sat down to wait. The conversation had been successfully steered back to Rotwood's ghosts, and if she listened carefully, she'd be able to tell when Danny made his move. He'd learned to mimic the voices of the people he'd overshadowed, though she knew he still didn't always do it, so the interviewer, at least, wouldn't know the difference.

Maddie might, and they'd be in trouble if she did realize it.

"It was poor footage," Maddie said, agreeing with the interviewer's words. "That is surely one of the reasons for the controversy."

"_Another being Rotwood's past claims,"_ the interviewer pointed out.

"The ghost from earlier this week?" Maddie asked.

"_And the dragon,"_ the interviewer added. _"Though that one turned out to be one of his students."_

"It does make him less credible," Maddie agreed. "But—"

"This is actual video of ghosts," Jack interrupted.

"_You believe that it isn't fabricated?"_

If Jazz hadn't been watching for it, she wouldn't have noticed the slight shudder that passed through her father's body. "I, Jack Fenton," he declared, "believe that it _is_ fabricated. Uh, falsified. Tricks of the light or, uh, computer generated or stuff like that. It's an actual video of things that look like ghosts, but those ghostly images aren't actually ghosts."

Maddie shot her husband a surprised look. "I'm afraid I'm forced to share that opinion," she said at length. "I cannot say whether the hoax, if you will, was intentional, but we have found no evidence to support Professor Rotwood's claims."

"Yeah," Jack put in. "We, uh, want to believe him but can't. Because of his track record and, uh, lack of evidence. Besides, if there was a ghost here, I would know about it!"

"Don't overdo it, Danny," Jazz muttered. "Quit while you're ahead."

"We are, unfortunately, aware of ways where images of ghosts can be intentionally created," Maddie was saying. "Holograms, of course, would be the first thing to jump to mind, providing Rotwood would have access to that technology, but as my husband was saying, it can also be done using mirrors and projectors to manipulate the light waves and made it appear…."

Jazz started to smile. This was going to work. Danny had arrived in time to jump in and ensure that things went in their favour. It had been close, but it looked like he'd pulled it off. One less thing to worry about.

The phone interview didn't last much longer, likely because the interviewer finally had what she wanted. As usual, Jack was a bit disoriented when Danny left him, but a comment from Maddie—"I'm proud of you for saying that, dear."—made him quick to agree with anything else that she was saying. Even better, he didn't seem to question the forgotten moments of the interview.

One more thing in their favour.

"Good job, little brother," Jazz whispered when Danny turned up again. She glanced at their preoccupied parents and led Danny farther away and out of sight. After all, he was supposed to be with Jake. "Did you get my messages?"

Danny shook his head. "No. I just, uh, came back to check on things."

He was rubbing the back of his neck. Jazz knew what that meant, and she narrowed her eyes. "What's wrong?"

"I don't really know," Danny said. "Jake wanted me to meet Fu's friend Marty, and he turned out to be the Grim Reaper—"

"The _what_?"

"He's the Grim Reaper," Danny repeated, "and I kind of, um, stayed for as long as I could before running away." He must have been able to read the concern in her eyes because he added, "I don't know what it was. I just…. I don't know. Some feeling, I guess. It's gone now, anyway."

The feeling itself might be gone, but the memory of it wasn't. Jazz caught a glimpse of it in her brother's eyes. Fear. Dread. That gut-wrenching, uncontrollable panic.

Her expression softened. "It's okay," she whispered, giving him a quick hug. That he didn't try to squirm out of it told her more than he had in words. "You're fine. You're safe. And, thanks to you, Jake doesn't have to worry about Rotwood."

Danny gave her a small smile. "He'll still have to worry," Danny pointed out. "Rotwood isn't the type to give up."

"You're used to that," Jazz commented. Danny shot her a questioning look and she snorted. "Oh, come on, Danny. That determination has to remind you of someone. Dad? Mom? Even Skulker?"

Danny chuckled. "Yeah, I guess it does."

Jazz smiled at her brother, unsure if she should ask her next question. After a moment's hesitation, she asked anyway, saying, "Were you going to tell Jake or did you change your mind again?"

"I don't know," Danny said. "I meant to, but then, well, it just didn't happen. Everything else started going on, and I never found the time."

"You regret it," Jazz observed.

Danny just shrugged. "A bit."

A lot, Jazz translated, reading the look on his face. Danny never did like keeping secrets from people he considered his friends, and he and Jake seemed to be so alike, for all that they felt like they belonged in different worlds. But they didn't, not really. Not if ghosts could be classed with other magical creatures like dragons. If they were, the stories were strikingly similar.

"You two don't sound that much different, you know," Jazz said quietly. "You and Jake. You're both teenagers, someone most people here would consider too young to carry the responsibility you do. You risk your lives to protect others. You try your hardest to blend in and hide, playing a role that ensures no one will realize that you're actually a hero. That's probably why you feel so guilty trying to keep your secret from him, little brother. Your lives are mirrored. In some ways, you share the same secret."

"Yeah," Danny agreed after a moment. "I guess we do."

"If it's going to keep bothering you," Jazz said frankly, "just tell him and get it over with. I know you want to, and now that I've met them, I agree with you: your secret would still be safe. Besides," she added, "if Jake's anything like you, he'll get over the fact that you kept it a secret from him because he'll understand. He's probably been through the same sort of thing."

Danny gave her a small smile. "Thanks, Jazz."

Jazz, knowing full well that it would annoy her little brother, ruffled Danny's hair. "You're welcome. Now get out of here. You're not supposed to be back until after supper. Do you remember where I said we're staying?"

Danny shook his head, and Jazz sighed. Honestly, sometimes Danny could be so forgetful. But she told him again, and he promised he'd meet them there and phone if something came up, and when Jazz pointed out that he hadn't answered his other calls, he switched cell phones with her. As she'd suspected, his was finally dead. When Danny went off again, Jazz slipped back to the Assault Vehicle to start charging the phone. Knowing Danny, he would need it again soon.

"Oh, there you are, honey," Maddie said when Jazz came back. "Are you hungry? We're thinking of going for an early supper. Dad and I have finished up here, and we didn't get much for lunch."

"Sure, Mom," Jazz said. She hadn't had much for lunch, either, seeing as it had been cut short.

"Danny's got his phone, right?"

"He's got mine," Jazz replied. "He forgot to charge his again."

Maddie shook her head, but she was smiling. "Sometimes I wonder if he'd lose his head if it weren't screwed on," she murmured. "Thanks for looking after him, sweetie."

"It's fine, Mom. I don't mind, even if he does."

Maddie laughed, causing Jazz's own smile to grow. "Come on. Let's see if we tempt your father away with promises of fudge for dessert."

* * *

Danny finally found Jake at the skateboard park near the school. Jake had never shown it to him specifically, but he'd flown over it a few times. Since Jake could actually ride—and since he wasn't at the shop or at home—Danny figured it would be a good place to check. Jake wasn't actually riding when Danny spotted him, which was another stroke of luck on Danny's part, since it meant he could catch Jake alone.

Jake looked like he was watching Trixie and Spud practice from the sidelines, and though Danny didn't know why he wasn't out there with them, he was thankful for it. When he deemed it safe, Danny landed and dropped his invisibility. Before emerging from his hiding spot, he pulled what had become the usual partial transformation to become Danny Phantom in what was (almost) Danny Fenton's clothes. Practice made perfect, and that was getting a lot easier than he'd thought it would ever be.

Of course, it was still necessary. He was a lot less conspicuous dressed this way, even in New York. Sam might applaud his individuality for any other reason, but not if he stood out and risked his secret. Not to mention the whole energy balance thing. Also very important.

"Hey," Danny said, raising a hand as he walked over to Jake, who was sitting on a bench next to his board. "Good news: Rotwood's thing is dealt with. Someone was already interviewing the Fentons when I got there, just over the phone, so I overshadowed Jack to make sure things went the way we wanted them to. Jazz said she figures they won't be getting any more calls once it gets out that they think Rotwood's video is faked. And he won't be able to do anything more with it, either, now that his credibility is called into question. Or something like that. I'm pretty sure that that's what Jazz was telling me earlier."

"And Jazz is usually right, is she?" Jake asked dully. He hadn't met Danny's eyes yet.

Danny raised an eyebrow at the tone. He would've thought that Jake would sound a heck of a lot happier. After all, the whole mess he'd been worried about was fixed, and things had gone off without a hitch. "Yeah. I thought we'd established this. Jazz is the smart Fenton kid. Just don't tell her I said that."

"So what'd you do?" Jake asked, glancing up at Danny and looking like he really didn't want to know the answer. "Fixate on him?"

"Huh?" He had no idea what Jake was talking about.

"Danny Fenton," Jake explained. "You're like…attached to him or something."

Or maybe he did. It was just as well Danny had decided he should finally tell Jake. Danny sighed and rubbed his neck. "It's not like you're thinking," he said.

Jake shook his head. "Look, Phantom, I get it. It's how you're surviving. He's the reason you can last so long in our dimension. You feed off him or something. But I'm sure we can find another way. You can't keep doing this."

He was back to being Phantom. That probably wasn't a good sign, seeing as Jake hadn't picked up the habit from Jazz—or him—before now. "I'm not a parasite or anything," he started. "It's just…."

"Complicated?" Jake didn't sound amused. "I've dealt with a bunch of magical creatures. I've done complicated. One of my dates to a school dance once tried to suck everyone's souls. Well, she did suck everyone's souls, since she was a Nix, but things got fixed and everything turned out all right. But she didn't want to do that, Phantom. She tried to tell me she had to go before the moon reached a certain point in the sky, and I didn't listen to her. But you…."

Danny sat down next to Jake. "I guess I should have told you before," he admitted, "but I was worried. I wanted to trust you, but everyone keeps telling me I have to be more careful, so I waited, making sure no one had any connections to anyone who would try to hunt me down. And by the time I knew enough, I just…. I thought it was too late. I'm sorry."

"An apology doesn't make it okay," Jake said bluntly. He sounded hurt, defensive, and Danny wasn't sure how to go about making things better. There was silence between them for a moment, and then Jake said, "Marty said you'd never really crossed over. Your soul, your very self, or whatever it is that ghosts are—you're still anchored here. And it's because of Danny Fenton, isn't it? You're using him."

"You've got it half right," Danny said softly. "I mean, I'm still anchored here because of Danny Fenton. But I'm not using him."

Jake snorted. "How can you not be using him? You hardly acknowledge him. You don't usually talk to him; you talk to Jazz instead, unless she's busy or something. You talk about Sam and Tucker and Jazz as your friends, and while you say you're friends with Danny, too, you never talk about him. You just tell me he's the unreliable Fenton kid. The one who doesn't know stuff. The one who's lazy, from the sounds of it, skipping class and getting detention and never being around to help you when you need it. The one who's probably the most useful because he's the one who lets you use his cell phone. Haley told me," Jake added, seeing—and misreading—the look on Danny's face.

"But it's not—"

"Stop it," Jake interrupted. "Just stop it, okay? I've worked it out, and whether you like it or not, I can't let this continue. I'm the protector of the magical world, Phantom, but that doesn't mean I can let things like this go on. You've got to stop using that poor kid. You don't even count him, do you? You forget about him."

"How can you even—?"

"You said three people knew your secret," Jake cut in sharply. "Three humans. And Danny makes four."

"Danny doesn't count," Danny started to say, but that turned out to be the wrong thing. If he'd thought before he'd opened his mouth, he probably would have realized that. But he hadn't.

"Have you forgotten that much?" Jake asked, clenching his fists. "I thought you said you were a young ghost. I thought you might, I dunno, remember what it's like to be human. Yeah, you seem nice enough, Phantom, but you obviously don't have any respect for a poor kid who's—"

"I'm Danny Fenton, okay?" Danny interrupted.

Jake stared at him, and though his mouth worked, no words came. Then, "You can't be. You're dead. Is that what this is, then? Some kind of delusional thing?"

This would be a lot easier if they weren't in plain view of other people. Being out of earshot wasn't enough for a conversation like this. "If I'm dead," Danny finally reasoned, "then what's your definition of alive? I think. I breathe. I grow. I, I don't know, react to my surroundings. What else is there?"

"But you're—"

"Anchored to this world, yeah, because I never really left it. You said it yourself: I never really crossed over. I'm not a real phantom, Jake. All the other ghosts call me a 'halfa'. Half a ghost. Half a human. That's my camouflage trick: Danny Fenton. That's how come my parents haven't accidentally killed me yet; I can usually get out of most of their stuff if I change back, and if I can't, Jazz or Sam or Tucker will help me."

"That's not possible," Jake said softly, stubbornness and sickeningly sure denial winning out over the part of him that wanted to believe Danny. Then, in a stronger voice, more defiant, "What would that even make you, half dead? That's not possible."

The repetition—and what it meant—wasn't lost on Danny. "Come on," he said, grabbing Jake's arm. "I'll show you." He started pulling him away, out of sight of everyone else, and Jake didn't resist.

"It's not going to hurt Danny, is it, whatever you do?" Jake asked once they were away from prying eyes.

Danny shook his head. "It doesn't hurt at all. I mean, it felt a bit weird at first, but I'm used to that." He saw the look on Jake's face and sighed. "You wanted to know my secret, right?" he asked. "Well, this is it." He closed his eyes and let the transformation rings sweep over him, restoring him to the way Jake had first seen him. "Danny Phantom," he said, gesturing to himself and looking at Jake. Keeping his gaze, he changed again. "Danny Fenton," he finished.

Jake was giving him a wide-eyed stare. His mouth opened and closed but again no sound came out.

Danny gave him a small smile. "This probably explains a few things," he said. "How I know so much about the Fentons, how I can evade ghost hunters, why I keep falling asleep in class, why my parents don't know who I am…." He trailed off. "And why I really didn't want you to introduce me as Danny Fenton when I was in ghost mode."

"But…." Jake trailed off and tried again. "So…before, then. It was…."

"It was always me," Danny confirmed, suspecting what Jake was trying to ask. "I mean, yes. I could have done this before, way back in the beginning, when you wanted me to, but I didn't because I didn't know what I'd gotten into." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Kind of a weak excuse, huh? You know, seeing as you've gone through the same sort of thing since you found out about being, well…."

"A dragon?" Jake smirked. "Trust me, I get it. At least my dad's not—" He broke off, clearly regretting saying that much.

"He hasn't always tried to capture me," Danny said, aware that he was dangerously close to babbling but knowing that Jake was still feeling uncomfortable after his accusation. "The one time I let him, he actually let me go."

Jake didn't take the bait and ask. Instead, he tried the inevitable question that Danny knew was coming: "But I don't get it," Jake said. "How can you be, well, part ghost? That's gotta be impossible."

"It started with the accident," Danny began. After a second's hesitation, he amended, "Well, no, it started before that…." And so he finally told Jake his story, a good two days and a lot of internal debate after hearing Jake's. And he didn't regret it.

It was nice to be able to talk to someone (not Vlad) who understood the sort of things he went through. Someone who _knew_, not just someone who was willing to listen. And Jake was the first person he could really relate to, because even though their problems weren't all the same, they were similar. It seemed that Jazz, as usual, was right: their lives were mirrored.


	24. Chapter 24

Supper at the Longs went well enough—much better than it would have, anyway, if he and Jake hadn't managed to patch things up as well as they had over a talk that had been long enough (and truthful enough, as much as that truth had been a bit painful) to make Jazz proud. Over the meal, Danny relayed that he'd met up with his parents and would be spending the rest of the time with them, and this seemed to be enough for Jonathan Long. "You know," he admitted as they finished Susan's delicious cheesecake, "I had been hoping to meet your parents this weekend, but I'm afraid I'm not feeling the best." He scratched his head. "Flu, I think. I'm usually pretty good at dodging it, but when it hits me, it hits hard."

Danny smiled. "That's all right. Mom and Dad would talk your ear off about their ghost hunting stuff anyway, and it's not as interesting as they think it is." He paused, then, slowly, and only partially against his better judgement, he added, "I could give you our home phone number if you ever do have any questions about ghosts. They'd be more than happy to answer."

Jake snorted and muttered something like, "No kidding," but the reactions of his sister and mother were more along the lines of what Danny had been half-expecting: complete and utter disbelief. The 'why would you do something so stupid?' look. He should know. He'd been on the receiving end of that one many times. Usually from Jazz. Sometimes from Sam. Also from Clockwork, once, though Danny hadn't realized that that's what the expression had truly meant until after he'd left.

"Jake met them today," Danny added. "He, um, met me at the convention centre after school. I'm sure they'd love to talk to you guys if you ever want to give them a call." That was sufficient to dull the expression on Susan's face to that of merely a worried, I'm-not-sure-you-should-have-said-anything one, but Haley's expression definitely didn't change.

Well, after growing up with Jazz, he should've expected that. Those two were cut from the same cloth.

"That'd be great, Danny-boy," Jonathan said. Danny had to hide his smirk at the nickname; three days, and he was already treated like part of the family. "You know, it's really a shame you live so far away. I'm sure Jake would love to visit you sometime. Maybe see some of those ghosts you were telling us about."

The wink that accompanied this last statement told him that Jonathan Long, like almost everyone else outside of Amity Park, thought that he'd been exaggerating just a little bit. If ghosts were indeed present in Amity Park, the reasoning went, they would not all be painted with the same brush and be caricatures of the living world. But Danny had anticipated this reaction long before he'd opened his mouth to tell his first story from back home, so he took it in stride. "He's probably got enough on his plate here," Danny said, glancing at Jake. "You know, dealing with everything that comes with big city life."

Jonathan laughed. "Everyone needs a new experience once in a while. Isn't that why your parents let you come?"

"Yeah," Danny agreed. "I expect so. It is a good experience for us. Plus, I have a feeling that they wanted to encourage our interest in ghost hunting. And maybe use it as an excuse to spend time together." He shrugged. "I'd be lying if I said they didn't embarrass me sometimes, but other times I can just accept them for who they are. They've taught me a lot."

"Same here," Jake said, glancing at his father. "And we don't always say how much we appreciate it, do we?"

"You never do," Haley piped up matter-of-factly.

Jake scowled at her. "Goody two shoes," he muttered.

"That's enough," Susan said, intervening before things escalated. "Danny, did you want a ride to your hotel?" When Danny shook his head, she insisted, "It's really no trouble."

The expression on Susan Long's face now was a clear 'don't refuse' one, so Danny relented. "All right. Thanks."

He was rewarded with an approving smile. "We'll leave in about half an hour, once we have the dishes done. Haley, I believe it was your turn tonight?"

Haley's protest was immediate: "But, Mom, Jake—"

"Can spend one last night with Danny," Susan cut in gently. Looking at Jonathan, she added, "Care to help, dear?"

Jonathan chuckled. "It would be my only contribution to this yummy yummy in my tummy meal," he said, pushing his chair out and taking his dishes to the sink.

Haley made a face at Jake. "You owe me," she hissed as she snatched up her plate. "Dad set this as your punishment, and Mom knows it." Then, as she grabbed Danny's dishes, she added, "I'll figure out what changed between you guys. I'll figure out the big secret."

Just like Jazz. "Good luck with that," Danny said in a low voice. Haley stuck her tongue out at him.

"C'mon," Jake said. "We're excused once it's clean-up time. We'll head to my room."

"Sounds good," Danny said, getting to his feet. He wanted to phone Sam and Tucker to get an update sometime, but he could hold off for a bit longer. There was no guarantee they were done eating, anyway. But he was pretty sure he would've gotten a call if Amity Park had gone up in flames or some similar catastrophe had occurred, so he had faith that they had everything under control.

For now, he'd try not to think about the mess he'd undoubtedly left behind. He felt distinctly less guilty when he ignored the fact that he'd left the town unprotected, piling all his responsibilities onto Sam, Tucker, and an unwitting Valerie….

At least they were all good at ghost hunting. Val could definitely hold her own in battle, and Sam and Tuck had loads more experience fighting one-on-one (or two-on-one) than he liked, but he couldn't be everywhere at once. And if Sam _had_ managed to convince Amorpho to play nice and he was actually helping….

Danny inwardly cringed. That was what he was worried about. Ghosts and their secret agendas. Amorpho had struck him as the sort of ghost who would stick to the rules but exploit all the loopholes to his advantage. Sam was pretty good at reeling people in or holding them off—she had loads of practice when it came to the latter with her parents—but Tucker was horrible, and neither of them had dealt as closely with Amorpho as he had. They'd been too busy covering for him.

But he was worrying too much and not having enough faith in the abilities of his friends. He's save his worrying for _after_ he talked to them and heard the bad news.

* * *

Susan Long wasn't one to eavesdrop, not normally, but there were times when she felt it was necessary as a mother.

There were other times, like now, when she was simply being nosy and didn't care to contain her curiosity.

The two teenage boys in her backseat were whispering loudly, to the point where she wondered why they bothered at all. Then again, she supposed, they probably thought they were being discreet. To a certain extent, they were; she hadn't learned much. Nothing concrete. Nothing to settle the butterflies in her stomach.

She wasn't entirely sure why they were there, really, except that things didn't quite add up. And when things didn't add up, then something was wrong. If something was wrong and she wasn't sure what, she couldn't fix it.

"Hey, uh, Mom? Where are we going?"

She finally had their attention. "Just a quick stop," she said. "I know you want to think that things are settled, Jake, but you know what Gramps would say."

Silence.

"That you need to be certain?" Susan prompted. "That you shouldn't count on things or take them for granted?"

"That's not exactly what he'd say," Jake muttered. Then, louder, "So we're going to Rotwood's?"

"It's not the middle of the night, but I would feel better if I knew you destroyed what you can find of that tape, Jake."

"I'll help," Danny offered. "I can get us inside."

"I'd appreciate that," Susan said, "and I'm sure Jake does, too." She risked a quick glance over her shoulder at her son and added, "You'd better leave your cell phone behind in case Trixie or Spud try to call. I can take a message."

"Sure, Mom," Jake said.

"I'd better do the same," Danny said, pulling out his phone—a different one from earlier, Susan noted absently as he reached up to place it (and Jake's) on the seat beside her. "We probably won't be gone long, but I think I'm running out of good luck, so I don't want to risk it."

She dropped them off farther up the street from Rotwood's house and watched as they walked back to it, stopping in front of the garage. After listening at the door for a moment, they must have decreed that Rotwood wasn't in there, for Danny grabbed Jake's arm and then pulled both of them through the wall. Then, the street was empty again.

"They'll be fine," Susan told herself quietly. "It needed to be done, and they are more than capable of doing it." But for some reason, she couldn't be certain.

It was that lack of knowledge gnawing at her again. The things that didn't add up. The things that didn't make sense.

The ringing of a cell phone cut through the silence, and Susan, without even glancing at it, picked it up. "Hello?"

She'd been expecting it to be Trixie or Spud.

It wasn't.

"_Hey, Jazz?"_ There was a split second pause. _"Danny's not answering his phone. What's wrong? What happened? Your parents didn't find out about the Tuck-bot as a stand-in, did they? Or find him as Phantom? He's not in a cage again, is he? Please tell me your parents aren't trying to show him off right now."_

And all of a sudden, things made _sense_—even though she had never met Jazz or Danny Fenton (as himself) or their parents, even though she had no idea how what she knew must be possible could be.

"_Jazz? Come on, this isn't funny. What's going on?" _She could identify the speaker now: Tucker Foley. Danny's friend. Worried about him, like Trixie and Spud so often were with Jake when they were separated.

"Sorry," Susan said softly. "Jazz isn't here. Danny must have her cell phone, but he left it with me while he went with my son to take care of a bit of unfinished business. I'm Susan Long. Can I take a message?"

There was silence for a moment.

"_Um…you're going to forget everything I just said, right? Sam'll _kill_ me if she finds out I told someone like this."_

The desperation in the words was touching, in a way; it told her that Danny's friends cared for him as much as Trixie and Spud did for Jake. "Of course I am. I'm used to keeping secrets. And Danny's fine at the moment. Should I tell him you called?"

"_Better not. He'll probably call here later. I just wanted to…. It doesn't matter. There's no disaster here. I was just going to give him an update. We're surviving. That's all that matters."_

That undoubtedly wasn't all, Susan suspected, but she could understand Tucker's reservations. "Danny's fine," she repeated gently.

"_I should go." _A pause, then a rushed, _"Thanks. Bye." _The _click_ came before she could say anything in response.

Susan put the phone down slowly, knowing she'd learned something that Danny had tried very hard to keep from her—something which, from the sounds of it, he kept from almost everyone, including his own parents. His friends and sister knew, if his stories were anything to go by, though she suspected the ones he hadn't intended for her to overhear were the most truthful. Less censored, at any rate.

His friends, Sam and Tucker, and his sister, Jazz. And, unless she was very much mistaken, her son. Jake. And now her.

The twisting feeling in her gut had returned, but she knew its root was guilt instead of worry. It was the price of secrets and the price of curiosity, a price she had paid before and would have to pay again. If it came without other consequences, she might be tempted to keep every secret she knew forever, but she was unfortunately well aware that sometimes that wasn't the best.

She was relieved when Danny and Jake returned, and thankful when they reported that they were successful. Between the two of them, they were certain that they had found and destroyed every shred of Rotwood's evidence. Any that remained, Jake informed her cheerfully, could easily be called into question when pointing out how often he had cried wolf in the past.

"It's fine," Susan told herself gently as she went to drop Danny off at the hotel. The boys, she knew, were already absorbed in their conversation again, completely ignoring her. "It's no different than anything else. This is just one more secret that's going to be kept."

* * *

Professor Hans Rotwood was flabbergasted.

He'd woken up bright and early, well before the phone call. He'd thought it would be a good day. A memorable one. But then he'd gotten the call, and he knew the day would be memorable for the wrong reason.

Things had been going so _well_. He'd captured video evidence of magical creatures. He'd spoken to the Fentons and hadn't left until he'd felt confident that they'd believed him. Now, to receive a call learning that they'd _denounced_ him….

He almost wasn't surprised when he walked into the garage and saw the mess. There was nothing left, of course. The files on the computer had been corrupted, the computer itself cleaned of everything else of value. All the copies he'd had—on everything from tapes to CDs to flashdrives—had been destroyed. His notes were nothing more than piles of ash. Each and every camera was ruined beyond repair. He didn't need to look to know that hastily composed emails—_retractions_—had been written and sent out in his name. Every news station would be calling him a fraud. Again.

Jake Long was responsible. And, if the empty secret safe behind the shelving unit was any indication, Danny Phantom had helped him.

Ruined. Foiled. Again.

He'd have to speak with the Fentons. There was nothing else for it. He'd have to find out what had gone wrong. Whether they'd changed their minds (and why) or whether he'd never managed to convince them in the first place. He could understand others doubting him, even if he wasn't particularly pleased by their judgement. Thanks to Mr. Jake Long, he had been accused of being things he was not. A kidnapper. Someone caught up in a fantasy world. Someone unfit to teach children or even be around them at all. He'd had to fight tooth and nail to regain his reputation. He didn't want to have it been all for naught.

The convention began today. He could take a personal day for work and show up at the FentonWorks booth at nine. While he wasn't sure he could convince the Fentons to see reason, to change their minds and make a public announcement saying as much, he was determined to find out what had gone wrong. This situation was very convenient for Jake, and if he and the phantom were working together….

It was likely too late to do anything now. When he could offer no further proof, he had to rely on his word, and his word had been called into question too often of late to be believed. It was always such a disappointment when he was forced to admit that his evidence, his proof, had been destroyed. But unfortunately for him, even tangible evidence could be torn away from him. This was a prime example of that.

It was all too easy for everyone else to believe that he was seeing things, making things up or making a fuss over nothing. It was easier to think that he was just jumping to conclusions or that he had purposefully constructed an illusion and claimed it to be the real thing. It was much easier, for everyone else, to call him a crackpot. A crazy old man who was wrapped up in a dream he should have abandoned in childhood—a dream which, in his case, he'd never even had at that time. Back then, the world of the magical creatures had remained as unknown to him as it did to all those to whom he was desperately trying to reveal it.

Oh, he'd get it someday. There would come a time when Jake Long wouldn't be there to stop him or perhaps wouldn't be able to. The time when someone would make a mistake on which he could capitalize. The time when he would finally get the recognition he'd hoped to get now.

But that day wasn't today, and it was a bitter pill to swallow.

Rotwood made it to the convention in good time. Getting inside was a bit more difficult than he'd anticipated, but he was able to talk himself out of potentially hazardous situations and weasel his way through to the FentonWorks booth. From the looks of it, the entire Fenton family was there—mother, father, daughter, and elusive son. He plastered a smile on his face when the son caught sight of him and grimaced, quickly turning to whisper to his sister, who in turn spoke to their parents. By the time he reached the booth, the Fentons were expecting him.

"I'm sorry, Professor Rotwood," Maddie began smoothly, skipping needless preamble, "but we had to make a decision based on the evidence we had. We found no trace of the ectoplasmic entities you claimed to have filmed, despite the convincing appearance on tape."

"I looked in every park I could find," Jack added. "Nothing registered. Of course, that doesn't mean—"

"That you didn't see something," Maddie cut in easily. "It just means we can't guarantee it, and we can't risk our name as the leading ghost experts of North America for something that's merely a possibility."

"Leading ghost experts of North America?" Rotwood repeated, raising his eyebrows. "I was not aware that your expertise was so…recognized."

Jack gave him a wide grin, his chest puffing out with pride. "The leading ghost experts in the country came to Amity Park once," he said, "but I was the one to capture Phantom."

Rotwood froze. "Phantom?" he echoed.

"Danny Phantom is a ghost who is haunting our hometown," Maddie explained. "Within months of his appearance, the destruction he'd caused was so great that an anonymous benefactor placed a million dollar reward on his head. It drew ghost hunters from across the country to try their hand at capturing him, but none succeeded save us."

No wonder Danny Phantom had been familiar with FentonWorks technology, with modern speech and the advances of the world around him. Rotwood opened his mouth, intending to tell the Fentons that this Danny Phantom was the ghost _he_ had caught, but he realized it might do him more harm than good. He had no proof of the capture anymore, and it could very well make him appear to be what they already suspected: someone who made extravagant claims with no hard evidence.

"I see," Rotwood said at length. "Very well. I understand your reasoning." He didn't like it and he felt it was unfair, but he understood it and he recognized a lost battle when he saw one. "But perhaps you could show me some of your wares?"

He was rewarded with smiles from the elder Fentons, though their children kept their distance, keeping out of what they undoubtedly viewed as a disagreement and subsequent resolution in which they had no involvement. He was shown a variety of promising technologies and purchased a few of these, including a Fenton Thermos, Fenton Weasel, and Wraith Wrangler.

"Oh, hey, Maddie, I found the Fenton Finder!"

From the corner of Rotwood's eye, he saw the Fenton children freeze in position. Interesting. Perhaps they knew more about their parents' work than they let on. Or perhaps this 'Fenton Finder' was a greater embarrassment to them than their parents' chosen line of work.

"It's our portable ghost tracker," Maddie explained as her husband joined her. "Jack was using a similar model yesterday that we have incorporated into our Ghost Assault Vehicle, but the handheld version, unfortunately, still has a few bugs in it…." She trailed off as Jack turned it on.

"Nonsense," he said as the machine hummed to life. "This baby is working perfectly!"

"_Welcome to the Fenton Finder. A ghost is near. Turn right."_

Rotwood followed the gazes of Maddie and Jack to see their children. Both were sporting sheepish smiles. The machine was turned in their direction, and the voice continued, _"Ghost located. Thank you for using the Fenton Finder."_

Maddie sighed. "As I said, it still has a few bugs in it. For some inexplicable reason, it keeps picking up Danny."

"Before you ask," Danny said, clearly not misinterpreting Rotwood's interested stare, "I'm not overshadowed. Jazz and I have definitely been through enough stuff to know that."

Rotwood turned to look at the machine again. "Flaws or not," he began slowly, "it does intrigue me. I would still like to purchase one."

"I'm afraid this is the only one we have on hand," Maddie explained. "We were merely going to have this as a demonstration of what we are currently working on, but we can fashion one and ship it to you once we're back home."

Rotwood smiled thinly. "That would be excellent." He kept up the conversation until he saw the Fenton children break off. From the corner of his eye, he saw the daughter head outside, presumably because she'd caught her mother's eye and was going to get another inventory list since he'd just requested a copy. The son took the opportunity to sneak off to the washroom.

The children knew something their parents did not. He wasn't sure what it would be about—their inventions, the ghosts of Amity Park, or even something to do with Jake Long—but he wanted to know what it was. And he'd spent long enough with Jazz Fenton the previous day to know that he'd be more likely to get something out of young Danny. So, Rotwood thanked the Fentons and followed their son, hoping to corner him.

When he arrived, however, the washroom was empty.

* * *

"So you're skipping again?" Danny asked, settling into a more comfortable position on the roof of the convention centre.

"_I'm taking a page out of your book,"_ Sam admitted. _"It's just a trust issue with Amorpho. It's fine, Danny. Tuck and I can handle it. He'll contact me if I need to get to school, and we'll trade at lunch. Technically I'm on an outing with my mother right now."_

"Think you can hold Amorpho off for the weekend? You know, until we get back to Amity Park?"

"_The world isn't ending just because you're gone, you know," _Sam said. _"And Valerie's doing better than I thought she would when it comes to taking care of a bunch of these ghosts. Nothing's changed since we talked to you last night, Danny." _A pause. _"I thought Tucker said he tried you last night, anyway. That's why I was surprised when you called."_

"I guess I missed it. I just wanted an update."

"_So what's this, then?"_

Ah. She'd caught him. Danny smiled guiltily. "An excuse to avoid my parents and everyone else who's obsessed with hunting ghosts?"

A sigh. _"We'll see you when you get back, Danny. You can survive a weekend with your family and we can survive a weekend without you. Tucker and I will call you tonight, okay?"_

"And if there's an emergency?"

"_There won't be an emergency."_

"But if there is?"

"_We'll handle it and we'll call you when it's over."_

"Sam—"

"_If things get really bad, Dora said she'd help us. And Amorpho is keeping some of the ghosts at bay. But Tucker and I are armed, Valerie's running out of class about as often as you usually are, and the main attraction that half the ghosts look for is gone, so we're not as busy as you think we are. We're being careful. Just promise me that you are, too."_

"I am."

"_Good. Now get back to your parents before they notice you're gone or something. We're supposed to be heading to school, so you shouldn't be talking to us, remember?"_

"Right. Thanks, Sam."

"_See you soon, Danny."_

"Bye." Danny hung up the phone and sighed. Sam was right, of course. Just because Rotwood was talking with his parents, it didn't mean they were busy enough to not notice that he was gone. He could only pretend to be in the bathroom for so long.

Besides, it probably wasn't the smartest thing to be hiding out on the roof right now, considering all the people and all the technology designed to target ghosts that the building beneath him housed, which is why he hadn't told Sam exactly where he was calling from.

Sam was right about other things too, though. They'd managed to fend off the ghosts this long without him. They could handle a few more days. Theoretically, he should be able to spend this time with his family without worrying. So, now that Jake's ghosts were safely stored in a Fenton Thermos in the Assault Vehicle and they'd dealt with the Rotwood thing, this time with his family should be comparatively smooth sailing. Hardly different from anything he did on a regular basis.

The bathroom was empty when Danny landed in it, so he quickly changed back and headed out. Because his luck was what it was, he bumped into Rotwood on the way.

"What?" Rotwood exclaimed, staring at him and ignoring his mumbled apology. "You were not…. Where did you come from?"

"I was in the bathroom," Danny said, rubbing the back of his neck. He was just stating the obvious, so he tacked on a believable lie: "I had, uh, cramps."

"But you can't have been…."

"I should go, um, see if Mom has anything I can take," Danny mumbled, turning away.

Rotwood caught his arm. "How did you do that?" he demanded. "You…you are in league with the ghosts, aren't you? Perhaps with this Phantom your parents despise?"

Okay, so they'd _mostly_ dealt with the Rotwood thing. Now he knew how Jake felt. "If I was in contact with Phantom, do you think Mom and Dad would let me leave the house without a Spectre Deflector? They'd never allow it."

"I'm betting they do not know," Rotwood countered.

Danny shrugged. "How big of a secret do you think I can keep from my parents?"

Rotwood narrowed his eyes. "You've made friends with Jake Long, yes?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess. But what's that got to do with anything?"

Rotwood didn't answer him, his next words sounding more like he was talking to himself than to Danny. "Then I'd guess that you can keep as much from your parents as he can from his."

Danny raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"

"You are helping Phantom. He is the reason your parents did not accept my evidence!"

Danny snorted. "Look, Mom and Dad can tell when they're being overshadowed, if that's what you're thinking. Just ask them. Dad's thrown off ghosts who have tried to possess him before. And they have enough stuff to track ghosts down, too. If they don't believe you, it's because they couldn't find anything."

"But you are working with Phantom. You must be!" Rotwood's grip on his wrist tightened. "That is why your parents' inventions think you are a ghost, is it not? Because you have spent so much time with Phantom?"

Great. Rotwood was just one step away from accusing him of being a ghost.

Although….

A quick glance around showed that no one was looking in the direction, likely because they were still in the secluded alcove by the washroom. Danny grinned. "Something like that," he said, turning intangible and pulling away from Rotwood. "Bye." He lifted a hand and then turned invisible.

Jazz would kill him when he told her he'd done this. Heck, Sam would tie him up for her. Tucker might not be too impressed, but he'd understand and probably side with him. After all, it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. After what Jake had said, this should be just enough to make sure Rotwood didn't keep on claiming that he'd been set up, that his evidence _hadn't_ been falsified, that everything he said he saw was true.

When the coast was clear, Danny reappeared next to Jazz. "What do you think you're doing?" she hissed.

"Just follow my lead," Danny said, watching as Rotwood struggled to force his way through the crowd that he'd easily passed through. "I've been here with you the whole time, okay?"

"I hope you know what you're doing, little brother," Jazz muttered.

"Ghost!" Rotwood screeched as he came nearer, pointing a damning finger at Danny. "He is a ghost! There is a ghost in our midst!"

Jazz shot an alarmed look at Danny as everyone turned to look in their direction. "Are you sure you have this under control?"

"Yep," Danny said, leaning back in his chair.

"Ghost?" Jack echoed, instantly grabbing a Fenton Bazooka. "Where?"

"He's talking about Danny, Jack," Maddie said, touching her husband's arm. "He must have gotten the wrong idea after we showed him our inventions." Then, louder, "Danny is not a ghost. I think I would know if my son was being so much as overshadowed!"

"Are you threatening my family?" Jack asked suspiciously.

"That child is a ghost," Rotwood insisted, pointing at Danny. "He disappeared right in front of me not two minutes ago!"

"That's ridiculous," Jazz said, recognizing her cue. "He's been with me for at least five minutes."

"You can rest assured, Professor Rotwood," Maddie said, "that our children receive the utmost protection and you have no grounds to make your accusation. Did anyone witness the supposed disappearing act you say my son pulled?"

Somehow, watching as Rotwood realized that he didn't have a leg to stand on was _really _satisfying.

"If you'd care to do further business with us," Maddie said coldly, "I would suggest that you do not make outrageous accusations about my family."

"But…. But he…." Rotwood spun to look at Danny. "He…."

"_He_," Jazz said, stressing the word as she put her arm around Danny, "was with me when you think he proved to you that he was a ghost." She stood up, giving emphasis to her repetition. "Come on, Danny. You don't have to sit here and take this." As she led him away, she muttered, "You should wipe the smirk off your face."

"Well, it worked, didn't it?" Danny said, glancing over his shoulder to see security personnel dragging Rotwood away.

"This time," Jazz allowed, ushering him outside. She gave him a quick hug before he could escape. "But a stunt like that could've gotten you into big trouble."

"But it didn't."

Jazz gave him a look. "No," she agreed quietly, "but it might someday. Just…be careful, Danny."

"You've been telling me that for years, Jazz. And a lot this past week."

"Well, perhaps I wouldn't have to repeat it if the message would sink in through that thick skull of yours."

Danny made a face. "What's the speech now, Jazz?" He knew her well enough to know that one was coming if she took him away like this.

She gave him a rueful smile. "I guess I am that transparent, aren't I?" She hesitated, then said, "I know you've been in touch with Sam and Tucker. I have, too. They're handling things back home. And I think we've got things sorted out here, based on what you told me you and Jake did last night. I just want you to enjoy yourself, Danny. I know we're stuck with Mom and Dad for the weekend, but I think you've made a friend in Jake Long, and you should take advantage of that. Since you've taken on the responsibility of protecting the town, you haven't had nearly as much time to just enjoy yourself and spend time with your friends. As far as I can tell, you get interrupted every time you try, and the three of you end up fighting ghosts."

"And you think that won't happen now because it already did?" Danny guessed.

"I just think you should take the time to enjoy yourself. You know, act your age instead of someone who's matured too soon and is wise beyond their years."

"Says the teenager who thinks she's already an adult."

Jazz frowned but didn't argue. "Just don't throw this opportunity away, okay? You don't know when you'll get another chance." After a moment, she added, "Besides, now that you've told Jake, you can be yourself. You two don't need to keep secrets from each other. And that gives you a freedom you don't have with anyone besides Sam, Tucker, and me."

"And my enemies."

"But that's my point," Jazz said. "None of the ghosts you fight regularly are here, and I doubt even the Box Ghost would be foolish enough to show his face with the Paranormal Studies Convention in town. The week began terribly for you, Danny. No one can deny that. But now circumstances have afforded you a bit of freedom, and Sam and Tucker are doing everything they can back home to make sure that that freedom is uninterrupted. Just…don't squander it."

And that was it. The speech from the overbearing, annoying, worrywart of a sister. The same one filled with an insight only Jazz seemed to have into his life. The same patient tone he would've given anything to hear earlier in the week. The same knowledgeable words spoken with sisterly concern that he figured he'd be hearing the minute she'd started to lead him away.

But Jazz was right. She always was. And although Danny didn't really appreciate all the interference, he loved her for who she was. Besides, she was just trying to help.

"Thanks, Jazz," Danny said, staring at his feet instead of looking at his sister. She'd know how much this meant to him and how much he appreciated her despite all the times he made it very clear that he wanted her to stop poking her nose into his business. After all, she'd known how much he'd needed to hear the words from someone else before being able to bring himself to act on them regardless of knowing they were true. "I won't. I promise."

_Fin_

* * *

A/N: Technically. Technically, it's the end. However, since I acknowledge that by ending it here I completely bypass the whole mess of Jonathan Long wanting to meet Danny's parents (when, really, he'd still want to do that once he realizes that he is feeling up to it), I will, if there's any interest, write one more chapter (another bonus, we'll say) to cover that.

Otherwise, thanks to everyone who has stuck it out and read this through to the end. It turned out to be the longest story I've written to date. It also got more reviews than any story I've ever written, and far more than I thought I'd ever get for any story, so thank you to every single one of you who left a comment (or two or twenty-three….) on this story. I appreciate it.


	25. Bonus: Excuses, Excuses

A/N: The previous chapter was my real ending, but this should tie up at least one of those pesky little loose ends. And, just a heads up, bit of a lengthy author's note at the bottom.

* * *

"Hey, Jazz?" Danny asked after he'd pulled her out of their parents' earshot. It was Friday, and after Rotwood's visit, he'd spent the morning doing the rounds with Jack while she had stayed with Maddie at the FentonWorks booth. They'd taken lunch in shifts, and the few moments between finishing eating the overpriced convention food and starting their afternoon booth-watching duties was the first time since their conversation after Rotwood's accusation that she and Danny had had a chance to talk alone. "You don't happen to know who the organizers of this convention are, do you?"

Jazz cocked an eyebrow at her little brother. "Why would I know that?"

"Well, you just happen to know lots, so I thought you might know this, too."

Jazz sighed. "Better question," she amended. "Why do _you_ want to know that?"

Danny rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm, uh, just trying to do what you keep telling me to."

"Which is?"

"Being careful."

Jazz snorted. "Really? That'll be the day, Danny. With the messes you get into—"

"I'm well aware of my track record," Danny broke in. "And I know you're still not happy about the thing with Rotwood—"

"For good reason. You know how much trouble that could have gotten you into."

"—but I thought you'd be willing to help me redeem myself and head off something that could be worse?"

That got her attention. "What could be worse?"

"Okay," Danny said, holding up both hands as if to ward her off or calm her down, "let me just preface this by saying that it shouldn't be a problem and I'm probably home free anyway. I just don't want to take any chances."

Jazz crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows. Danny got the message. "It's Jake's dad. He might, well, come to…visit me here. And meet Mom and Dad. And you, I guess."

Jazz got the implications immediately. Jonathan Long wasn't aware of the magical world. He didn't know Jake's secret, let alone Danny's. And he'd met Danny Phantom and knew him as Danny Fenton. To meet Danny Fenton as he was now? Not good, but likely controllable. To tell their parents anything that remotely hinted at Danny being a house guest for the better part of a week? Infinitely worse.

"First things first," Jazz said. "Why do you think he might be coming? Or why did you think he wouldn't be?"

"Well, with everything that happened, he kind of thought he got the flu or something." Danny winced at Jazz's look. "I know, I know. But he's not questioning it, okay? I'm counting my blessings. Thing is, he said he probably wouldn't be coming. But if he decides he feels better—"

"He will be," Jazz concluded. "And you need to avoid that."

"Or at least do some major damage control. Any ideas?"

Jazz frowned. "Well, let's start with your ideas first. What's with wondering about the convention's organizers?"

"To explain why I look different before Mom and Dad wonder if there's anything to Rotwood's claims and pull out the Fenton Foamer. Back when I first got to Jake's house, I was just in ghost mode. I got stuck for an excuse and told him it was a costume. For this."

"A costume that you just happened to wear all week?"

"Well, you know, getting used to the contacts and the wig?"

"Neither of which you can produce."

"Well, he won't know that. Or Mom and Dad. I got the hang of partial transformations, Jazz. I could pretend to go put the stuff on or even change completely if he wants."

"That's just asking for Mom and Dad to shoot you. Do you know how many inventions you'll set off? And that's not even counting what other people might have."

Danny shrugged, clearly not impressed with anything he'd seen so far. "Only a handful more than I do now. C'mon, Jazz. If I can just convince them to hold a costume contest, I've got my first excuse right there."

"By 'convince', you mean 'overshadow', don't you?"

"If they don't listen to reason," Danny said slowly, "then, yeah, I'd have to resort to that."

Jazz looked at Danny for a moment. "All right," she said. "I'll help you track down the people behind the scenes. We'll get this costume contest of yours organized even if we just have to spread the word and hold it ourselves with no prize other than bragging rights. But don't expect a lot of people to participate with practically no notice, Danny. You're still going to stick out."

"You can be in it, too," Danny said. "As, I dunno, Ember or Kitty or someone. There's got to be some people here besides Mom and Dad who recognize a few of Amity Park's ghosts."

Jazz rolled her eyes. "At least you didn't suggest Dani Phantom."

"I think parading one secret beneath Mom and Dad's noses is enough," Danny said, "and as far as I know, they don't know about her. Besides, you've been possessed by Kitty before."

"Yes, and I remember so much from that time."

"Then what about Spectra? You guys even have some things in common. Psychology and red hair and stuff."

"No." Jazz's answer was swift, and she knew Danny really couldn't blame her. Spectra had tried to incinerate her, after all, and she hadn't been too happy with her before that.

"Just dress up as someone. Please?"

Jazz, like she usually did when she didn't want to continue a particular vein of the conversation, changed the subject. "You don't think Mom and Dad will be suspicious of the fact that you suddenly have a costume that looks amazingly like Danny Phantom's when they're acting on the assumption you hadn't heard of the contest until you came here?"

"The internet's a wonderful invention, Jazz. I can pretend I heard about it there."

Jazz couldn't help but scoff at that. "You didn't know about the convention until very recently, Danny, and you didn't even know we were coming here. Do you think Mom and Dad would believe that you, who manages to complete so little homework, would devote enough time to making a Danny Phantom costume of such calibre—"

"Okay, it's a stretch. I'll admit it. But it's not the worst thing they've believed. I mean, I could say that it's something for school—"

"Which won't reflect in your grades."

"Or for next Hallowe'en, then, or some other future costume party."

"Right. And they'd be so happy that you chose to go as the ghost who is practically the bane of their existence."

"I could pull it off if I say I'm doing research," Danny countered.

She had to hear this one. "Research?"

"Like a poll. Keeping a tally of people's reactions. Figuring out, unofficially, the latest stats on how many people think Phantom's good as opposed to bad."

It was pushing it, but it had a chance of flying with their parents. "All right," Jazz agreed. "You made yourself a Danny Phantom costume. What about everything else?"

"You mean explaining being in two places at once, don't you?"

"That is the far more pressing problem, yes."

"You don't, er, have any brilliant ideas, do you?"

"Oh, by all means, let's hear yours first."

"Well, there's overshadowing Jake's dad, for one," Danny said. "You know, to convince him not to come at all. Or maybe to make sure he doesn't bring up my, uh, stay. Or maybe duplication, except that wouldn't necessarily solve the me-in-two-places thing unless I overshadow him anyway. It'd just help me avoid Mom and Dad jumping to conclusions. And—"

"Danny, I should probably stop you there. You're heading for an out. You've got two strikes already."

Danny stopped, blinked, and said, "What? How?"

Jazz grabbed his arm and tugged him along, searching for a slightly more secluded corner. She wasn't worried about being overheard, not with all the background noise and conversations around them, but she didn't want to risk being caught out in the open. Even a few stray words could arouse suspicion, and she didn't want anyone to realize where they had come from.

Talking about a costume contest was one thing. Talking about overshadowing and other ghostly abilities was quite another.

"Last I checked," Jazz said quietly, "you're still having a lot of trouble with duplication. With Amorpho as Phantom in Amity Park, we don't need to have him appear here, too. And there's no sense in attempting to duplicate Fenton unless you intend to make sure Mr. Long never finds Mom and Dad, something I doubt you can pull off if that's what he's intending to do anyway."

"Technically, I wouldn't have to try to duplicate if I did that."

"True," Jazz allowed, "but you can't overshadow him for the same reason."

Danny frowned. "What? I don't have trouble with overshadowing like I do with duplication."

"That's not what I mean. If Jake's dad wants to meet our parents, don't you think he's going to make sure he does that?"

"I'm not following you," Danny admitted.

Jazz sighed. "Memory loss, Danny. He just went through this. If you overshadow him, you might fool Mom and Dad, but won't he keep trying to come back?"

To her surprise, Danny smiled. "I can't believe I got one up on you," he said. "Power of suggestion, Jazz. That's a benefit of overshadowing. Remember?"

"Suggestion won't be enough," Jazz pointed out matter-of-factly. "Not if he's that determined or stubborn."

"But he is that gullible," Danny reminded her. "I mean, the flu?"

Jazz made a face. "That might not just be because it was convenient, you know. What that ghost—"

"Solitary Sam."

"What he did," Jazz continued, "wasn't overshadowing, and you know it. It might have had other effects. For all we know, nausea's one of them."

Danny sighed. "Let me guess. Take what I can get and don't ask questions?"

She smiled. "Something like that."

"But then I'm back to square one. How do I explain being in two places at once? Unless I overshadow Mom and Dad?"

Jazz almost burst out laughing but caught herself and managed to keep it down to one short bark of laughter. "Oh, come on, Danny. Do you really think you can sustain two duplicates _and_ overshadow both Mom and Dad at the same time? I know you're good, little brother, but you're not that good."

"I'd only need one duplicate," Danny muttered.

"Not if Jake's dad expects to see you there."

"Then what I am supposed to do?"

"For starters?" Jazz asked lightly, ruffling his hair. He immediately pulled a face and ducked away from her. She laughed. "Phone Jake."

"Jake?"

"You need to start working on your alibi."

Danny raised an eyebrow. "Jazz, he's not any better at this stuff than I am. Why do you think I resorted to asking you?"

"Because Sam and Tucker aren't here and because I'm readily available and am completely aware of the mess you've gotten yourself into?" Danny gave her a look, and she relented. "Just find out if you can spend the night."

"But how will that—?"

"Just think about it."

"But it— Oh."

"Yes."

"That'll work, you figure?"

"It's better than your ideas. Give me some credit here, little brother. You didn't exactly give me a lot of warning. You can just be glad I'm a lot better at coming up with excuses than you are." It was hardly surprising. She'd had to tell her fair share of lies and excuses since she'd begun covering for Danny, well before he'd become aware of the fact that she knew his secret. "You handle that problem. I'll take care of the other one."

A smile, small but genuine, was her reward. "Thanks, Jazz. I owe you one."

"Technically speaking, you owe me a lot more than that," Jazz said. "To be honest, I stopped counting sometime after a hundred and forty-three. But considering what you do while I'm trying to sleep or study or otherwise be a normal teenager, I think I can let it slide."

The smile broke into a wide grin. "Let me know if you need any help."

"Will do," Jazz said, smiling herself. "Good luck. Try not to mess things up this time, all right?"

"Har de har har."

"I love you, too, little brother."

* * *

"Remind me," Jake said to Danny under his breath, "why we stopped trying to head this off at home?"

"Well, how often can you talk your dad out of something?" Danny asked. "Jazz was right. This is the best option." He paused. "Heck, _Haley_ was right. She's the one who warned me this would probably happen."

"Sounds like Haley," Jake muttered. "And Jazz said she's got this costume angle covered?"

"She had the entire thing organized before she went back to the hotel on Friday," Danny said. "The posters went up first thing yesterday morning. I don't know what she said to convince them, though. I didn't ask. I just know she's good at twisting people's arms if she needs to be."

"So it's, what, dress up as your favourite ghost? You know there's gonna be a whole lotta people under white sheets, right?"

Danny shrugged. "Any paranormal thing goes, but ghost is probably going to be one of the more popular things. Knowing Jazz, she said this would be a creative outlet for those attending the convention. From there, she could've spun it any way she needed to. You don't bury yourself neck deep in psychology and not know how to use it."

"And you're sure your parents aren't going to freak when they see you, you know, like this?"

With white hair and green eyes, Jake meant. He'd kept Fenton's clothes otherwise, trading the shirt he normally got when he pulled a partial transformation with one of his usual ones that Jazz had packed for him. "It was this or introduce your family to Danny Fenton and explain why I kept wearing the stuff for my so-called costume all week. Besides, Jazz said she'd warn Mom and Dad that I was going as Phantom and that I hadn't wanted to tell them because I didn't want an argument about it."

"And who's she going to be?"

"Beats me. No one I suggested, from the sounds of it. But it doesn't matter. She'll come up with something. She knows I'll take a lot less heat from Mom and Dad if she does this, too."

"And you don't think they'll put two and two together? It's kinda a big risk, isn't it? Fenton being Phantom?"

Danny shot Jake a wry look. "I was stuck with that risk the minute you introduced Phantom as Fenton. Besides, Mom and Dad have seen Fenton and Phantom side by side more than once. The truth isn't going to be the first conclusion they jump to."

"What are you two talking about?"

"Haley!" Jake gave his little sister a shove. "Mind your own business for once!"

"Easy there, buckaroos," Jonathan said, coming up between Jake and Haley. "We're here to have fun. Meet Danny's parents and see what they do for a living. You two don't need to squabble." He grinned at them and ruffled their hair. "You should be thankful we're going. We wouldn't have been able to bypass the lines if it weren't for Danny-boy here."

"I'm sure they're grateful, honey," Susan said. Looking at Danny, she said, "Why not run ahead and let your folks know we're coming? We never were more specific than 'after lunch'."

Danny smiled. "Sure, Mrs. Long. I'll be back soon." Ignoring the call that she should just be 'Susan' to him, Danny ran off to talk to Jazz. Against his better judgement, he found a dark corner to change back first. Best to remind his parents that he was dressing up as Phantom himself before showing up as him. Just to be on the safe side.

"Danny-boy!" Jack called as he skidded to a halt in front of the booth. Jazz was nowhere in sight, so he'd be cutting it pretty close if he needed to bolt before the Longs showed up. "What's this Jazzy-pants was telling us about you dressing up as that putrid piece of protoplasm?"

"You mean Phantom?" Danny asked. "Yeah, it's true. Look, I know you guys aren't happy about that—"

"It's not that we're not happy, sweetie," Maddie said. "We just hoped that you'd pick a different ghost."

"I told him he should be Phantom."

Danny spun around. "Jazz?" he asked, eyes sweeping over her figure. After all this, he should've figured she'd pick that ghost.

A frown. "Don't look at me like that, Danny. I've got time to put on the green paint. You should go get into costume." Her eyes darted to her left, where he could see the Longs rounding the corner, and she hissed, "_Sooner rather than later_."

"Uh, right. Look, Mom, Dad, I'll be back in a minute, but the Longs are here, okay? They want to talk to you. Jake, uh, told them enough that they wanted to meet you in person, too." He hesitated for a second before adding, "Mr. Long doesn't think all the stories I told him about the ghosts back home are true. I think he wanted to hear what the country's best ghost hunters have to say."

"He wants to hear about ghosts?" Jack asked, brightening.

"Here, Danny," Jazz said, stuffing a bag into his hands. "Go change."

At Jazz's insistence, Danny went off to the washroom. He knew Jazz could run damage control between their parents and the Longs in the time it would take for him to get back. The bag she'd given him was stuffed with a change of his usual clothes. The ones he'd worn yesterday, from the looks of them. She'd slipped a note inside, too, to remind him of the precise details of the costume contest. Just like Jazz to think ahead.

A flash of light later, and Danny very carefully left the washroom, holding tightly to the bag containing his other clothes and being very thankful that the harsh fluorescent lights made it really hard to realize that he was glowing just ever so slightly. He waved as he approached and Jack reluctantly dropped the Fenton Bazooka he'd snatched up the minute Danny had come into sight.

"Danny Phantom, at your service," Danny said, grinning.

Jake smirked, then looked at Jazz. "And who are you supposed to be?"

"Princess Dorathea," she replied. "Dora for short." She fingered her necklace and winked. "Also known as the dragon ghost, so don't test my temper."

"Except Dora has blonde hair, not red," Danny pointed out.

"So I couldn't be bothered to find a wig on short notice. The only ones who'll know are you, Mom, and Dad, anyway." Jazz shrugged. "It's not like anyone else has read the ghost files Mom and Dad keep."

The adults were still ignoring them and chatting amongst themselves. Susan and Maddie seemed to hit it off immediately, talking about everything from ghosts to Amity Park to their kids. Every once in a while, their conversation would swell to include Jack and Jonathan, for which Jonathan usually seemed grateful. Jack was regaling him with tales of ghosts otherwise, hardly pausing for breath, and Jake's dad seemed a bit…stunned. Danny had seen ghosts he'd just hit with an ectoblast look less dazed than Jonathan Long. At the same time, however, he had to admit Jonathan seemed genuinely interested, however overwhelmed he might be. There were a couple times he even managed to get a word in edgewise and ask a question. Admittedly, he tended to have better luck when he jumped into the women's conversation, but he still managed to break into Jack's tirade on occasion.

Haley took advantage of their parents' inattention. She stared at Danny, eyes narrowed, and asked in a low voice, "Where's the real Danny Fenton? Because you're not him. You're the real Danny Phantom."

"He owes me a favour," Danny answered easily, "so he's hiding out."

"That's not—"

"Drop it, Haley," Jake said, elbowing her. "This ain't really a good time."

Haley made a face at him and rubbed her arm but got the point. "I'm going to figure it out, you know."

Jazz smiled at her. "I'm sure you will. Now, Danny will show you around for a while, and I'll stay here, okay?"

"Oh, don't run off yet, honey," Maddie said as Danny turned to go. "Jonathan was just saying how nice it was to have you stay with them."

Danny forced a smile onto his face. "Yeah, they were great. I'm glad you let me stay there."

"It's almost a pity it couldn't have been for longer, right, Danny?" Jazz asked brightly.

Susan smiled, too, although hers was genuine. "You've raised an extraordinary son, Maddie, Jack. You have good reason to be proud of him. It was my pleasure to have him spend some time with us."

Jazz shot an alarmed look at Danny. He just gave a small shrug that the adults missed; that Susan hadn't mentioned he'd spent the better half of the week with them was pure luck and nothing else. Susan's praise was already drawing beaming smiles from his parents, anyway, and they'd missed a lot more non-verbal communication between their kids than things like this.

Although, as the conversation continued, Danny had to admit that Jazz had a point. He was doing less covering for him than she was, which wasn't unusual, but Susan managed to cut off her husband whenever he got close to blowing the whole thing. He never got in a mention that Danny had actually spent more than one night at their house.

Good luck and coincidence didn't last that long, right?

Danny raised his eyebrows at Jake, who in turn looked baffled and gave a quick shrug. Even Haley was frowning, and as she leaned forward to Jake, Danny heard her hiss, "You won't tell me but you told _Mom_?" That was about all the confirmation Danny needed that Jazz's suspicions were right: Susan Long had figured out his secret.

Somehow.

He _really _hoped that she was the only one. Of course, judging by the way she was dealing with his parents and her husband, she very well could be. She was good at this hiding thing, easily cutting in and smoothly talking around anything potentially incriminating. Granted, she was probably used to it after growing up in the family that she did, and this wouldn't be the first time she'd kept a secret from her husband and, he'd bet, newfound friends.

In one way, it was just as well. She was doing a better job of covering his tracks than even Jazz would have.

"Come on," Jazz finally said, touching his arm. "I need you to help me with the face paint. We've got less than twenty minutes until show time. We're not the only ones in costume anymore." He could read the rest of it in her eyes: _We're obviously not needed here_.

Apparently making sure his secret wasn't blown in the first half hour of conversation was a quick way to gain Jazz's trust, since Susan Long obviously had it.

Danny glanced at Jake and Haley. "Wanna help? I'm not exactly good with anything that remotely resembles makeup."

Jazz snorted. "It's not makeup, Danny. It's face paint. There's a difference."

"Um…." Jake made a face. "I don't think I could help."

Jazz rolled her eyes. "Boys," she muttered, snatching her bag. "If you don't want to get your hands dirty, I'm sure Haley will help me, right?" At Haley's grin, Jazz added, "See? Besides, it's our last time together. _Your_ last time together. We should make the best of it."

That was the plan. It always had been, right from the minute Jazz had told him to phone Jake. Spend Friday night with him and have an explanation for the time he'd spent with them, help Jazz with the last-minute details of the costume contest Saturday morning, back with the Longs that afternoon, and head back to the FentonWorks booth to meet up with his family just in time for supper. Out bright and early on Sunday to help out at the convention before meeting the Longs for lunch and bringing them here. Now, there was the costume contest, visiting and looking around the convention, and then one last supper with new friends before they hit the road.

He hadn't been home in a week. It didn't really feel like it had been a week. He wasn't entirely sure whether it felt longer or shorter—it felt fairly short now but had seemed to stretch on painfully long when he'd been locked in Rotwood's cage—but it was almost surprising to think that, this time last week, he'd been in the Ghost Zone.

He'd learned a lot in the last week, anyway. He'd discovered a whole new world that had been hidden in the Real World right under his nose. He'd made friends. He'd had fun, hadn't gotten vivisected or killed and dissected, and his secret was still safe from his parents. Aside from the mountain of homework and all the ghosts out for his head that awaited his return, he'd actually come out of this mess ahead.

And now his free time was almost over.

But that was all right. He'd make the most of the time he had left. It wouldn't be the last he got, and he certainly wouldn't wish the consequences of ignoring the ghost-related responsibilities that waited for him in Amity Park on everyone else. Any purely human hunter ran a greater risk of getting hurt than he did. He didn't know what he'd do once he finished high school, but he'd figure things out by then. No situation was static. Something would come up sometime. When Jake left, Haley would probably take over. When he left…. Well, if the ghosts were still attacking, Dani might be willing to cover for him for a few years. He was sure she'd turn up between now and then. He hoped she'd come by to visit at least once.

For now, though…. He wasn't sure if he'd ever get a chance to come back here and visit. He might as well enjoy every minute he had. "Right as always, Jazz," Danny murmured, flashing her a grin. He turned his smile on Jake and Haley and added, more loudly, "C'mon. Let's go."

* * *

A/N: To all those who have asked (or have been wondering but haven't asked) about a sequel, all I can say at this point is a definite 'maybe'. If it comes, it won't be for a while because I plan out most of what happens in my stories before I write them (which generally means I can update fairly regularly) and I haven't done any planning yet. (Plus there's another completely unrelated story idea that's been niggling at me and IS in the current planning process, and I don't want to put that off quite yet for fear I can't get back into it.) But if a sequel comes, chances are it won't be as long as this is (this I say solely because my average story length isn't quite this long, though it really depends on what idea I end up running with) and it may not be as related and sequel-y as you may like, but I won't know that for certain until I attack an idea. Then there's also the possibility that I'll write a shorter story or two rather than a real sequel, just as 'tags' of sorts to follow this…. I don't know at this point. If you have any strong opinions, by all means, share them, but I can't say how much (if at all) it will influence me. I need to start with an idea first and see where it goes from there before I can say anything. If you're still burningly curious and not one of the handful of people I've mentioned this stuff to already, feel free review/PM me and ask questions. Or wait a month and then ask me; I might know more then.


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